Have You Ever Wondered
by Magikatfish
Summary: In which America asks England many questions that have been on his mind, and England wonders just what goes through America's mind sometimes. Eventual USUK.
1. To Be a Ghost

**Welcome to a new series of mine! I based this off of a theme of "Have you ever wondered?" questions, so each chapter is a different question that a certain American nation will be asking. Some topics will be serious, some will be funny, it all depends on the question! I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters, all rights to Hidakez Himaruya.**

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"Remind me again what you're doing here?"

England looked down disdainfully at the large figure of America, who was currently cowering underneath the blankets of England's bed. The hotel room was dark, but the bright lights of the busy city outside shone through the thin drawn curtains, and with this light England could clearly see America's wide, terrified eyes sticking out from underneath the blankets, staring right at him. The idiot had forgotten his glasses, no doubt due to the speed at which he fled from his own hotel room, all the while screaming all the way down the halls.

"Please, England, can I just sleep with you tonight?" America pleaded with his signature pair of shockingly sky blue puppy dog eyes.

"No," England snapped quickly with a stern glare, "grow up you idiot!"

America never once took his eyes off England and he pouted, "But I won't be able to fall asleep by myself tonight!"

England sighed and rolled his eyes in exasperation, "You shouldn't be watching stupid horror movies the night before an important meeting anyways."

"But Japan gave it to me and he told me it was really scary, so I had to watch it!" America objected childishly.

"If you know you'll get scared why the bloody hell do you watch it?" England retorted back.

"I'm not scared!" America tried to deny, but England just quirked an exceptionally bushy eyebrow at him.

"If you aren't scared," England reasoned smugly, "get out of my room."

"Noooooo," America whined and hid himself deeper under the blankets.

America refused to get off the bed no matter how many times or how many different tactics England tried. Eventually England gave up and just collapsed onto the bed next to America.

"Fine, git," England hissed, "you can stay."

America immediately appeared from under the blankets with a joyful look on his face, eyes sparkling in triumph.

"But _only _tonight," England added sternly, glaring at America.

America nodded obediently and immediately stretched out into a more comfortable position under the blankets. England tried to ignore the quivering coward next to him as he lay in bed too. Soon, he felt his eyelids start to droop, and he couldn't wait to get a good night of sleep before the big World Meeting tomorrow. Just as he was on the verge of drifting off, however, he felt America roll over next to him.

"Hey, England," America prodded England's face with one finger in order to get the Brit's attention.

England tried to ignore him.

"England," America poked England's cheek persistently.

"Fuck off, America," England growled while still keeping his eyes closed.

"Englandddddd," America was acting more and more childish by the second, and England's brow twitched in irritation.

England, realizing that trying to ignore America would be a fruitless pursuit and would probably just result in the loss of even more sleep, reluctantly opened one eye to shoot a hostile glare at America.

"What?" England demanded venomously.

America ignored England's blatant demonstration of frustration and rolled onto his side to stare at England directly. His gaze seemed determined and oddly serious, a countenance very rare to find on the American's face. England grew concerned and was just about to ask if something was wrong when America finally opened his mouth to speak.

"Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a ghost?"

Emerald green eyes met sky blue ones and a deep silence settled in the hotel room. America blinked innocently while England just continued to stare blankly. Then, without warning, England whacked America on the back of the head and swore loudly.

"Fucking hell!"

America flinched and rubbed the back of his head with a hurt expression. England rolled over to try and ignore the idiot, but America wasn't going to shut up without a fight.

"Come on, England," America nudged the Brit again, "what do you think it's like?"

"Why don't you go find out?" England growled under his breath.

America titled his head to one side in confusion, "But I'm not a ghost!"

"Really? I can help you with that if you want," England muttered and tried to refrain from strangling America.

America ignored England's hostile comment and sighed loudly. England wasn't quite sure what time it was, but it was far too late at night for him to be awake talking with an idiot about how ghosts feel. He actually wanted to be productive at a World Meeting unlike everyone else.

"Just think about it, dude," America mused in a quiet voice, "being not really dead and not really alive. And tons of people don't even think you exist... It sounds like it would get lonely."

England wasn't quite sure what to make of such a serious emotional matter coming from such a ridiculous question. It was almost endearing in a way, if it wasn't for the fact that America had essentially commandeered England's bed and was keeping him awake at night. Despite himself, though, he found that he was nonetheless compelled to speak. It was rare to find America so contemplative.

"Don't you think other ghosts would keep you company?" England pointed out reasonably.

America considered this for a moment before replying, "Yeah but what if you can't find any? Creepy haunted mansions usually only have one ghost, and ghosts don't really go out on Friday nights do they? Maybe they do?"

"Who says they don't? They can do whatever they bloody please," England retorted stubbornly.

"But what if they're cursed? Like they can't leave the house?" America reasoned in response.

"Look, if I was a ghost I'd be damned if I let some curse stop me from doing as I please," England objected.

America snickered and gave England an amused look.

"What?" England noticed and glared at America, who just continued to laugh to himself.

"Nothing," America waved a hand dismissively.

England was about to argue with America, but his train of thought was interrupted when America just sighed and rolled onto his side.

"I guess it wouldn't be so bad," America mumbled, "you're never really alone, are you? Not really... There'll always be someone, or something..."

With that, America stopped talking. Judging by the slowness of his breath, England was shocked to find America had fallen asleep, leaving England to reflect over what the young nation had said. It wasn't until quite some time later that England finally dozed off himself, lulled to sleep by the steady sound of America's breathing as it reminded him that no, he was not alone after all.

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**What an odd question to ask... Anyways, I already have a couple other chapters written up in advance, seeing as how I'm rather slow to write these stories, so I shall update soon! **


	2. Why People Can't Get Along

**As promised, chapter 2! I decided to emphasize the human aspect of the characters by having a meeting that isn't about international politics and disputes, plus I felt like doing something silly, unfortunately for many of the countries... Enjoy! All rights to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

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By the time England woke up in the morning, America had vanished, as if he had been just a passing ghost in the night. England was a bit unsettled by the fact, but he quickly shook his head and got out of bed to get ready for the meeting. His clouded mind whispered temptingly in his ears and the bed beckoned with the lull of a Siren song, but England forced himself to ignore them both as he went about making his usual morning cup of tea. When he finally left his hotel room, the halls were eerily silent, and England unconsciously sped up his walking pace to get out of the narrow corridors faster.

He exited the hotel and was met by the bustle of early morning city traffic. Fortunately for him, the meeting was being hosted nearby, approximately a five minute walk away. He did not delay on his journey and promptly arrived at 7:00 a.m. as he had planned. When he stepped inside, he was met by a familiar crowd of faces. As per the traditional pattern, they all greeted each other and proceeded to the main meeting hall in order of walking speed. England found himself, as usual, in fourth place, behind Netherlands and Switzerland. Accordingly, Germany followed after him, and, to England's relief, America followed after Germany. England heaved a deep sigh and it comforted him to know that America had not been a ghost in his hotel room. Although, admittedly, America did look vaguely haunted, most likely from whatever horror movie he had decided to watch last night. Speaking of which, the culprit behind the movie, Japan, was walking behind America and England could swear there was a coy little smile tugging at his lips.

All the nations arrived to the meeting hall as walking speed would predict, with Brazil coming in last and closing the doors. Once the doors were closed, the nations took their usual seats and Germany convened the meeting with a stiff welcome. The topic of today's meeting: Team Building.

England blinked. He stared at Germany, who looked just as uncomfortable presenting the topic as everyone else in the room felt. Germany cleared his throat and tried to ignore the weird looks all the nations were giving him.

"We have been less than _productive _at our recent meetings," Germany remained stiff at the head of the table, "so we will be learning how to cooperate."

England could see the other nations exchange furtive glances. Some nations glared at others or quivered in fear, but it was clear that pretty much everyone except Italy had reservations about "Team Building."

"Our first exercise is a simple trust exercise," Germany cleared his throat again, "I will match everyone with a partner."

England heard France chuckle under his breath and felt the sudden urge to punch the blonde in the face. Unfortunately, before he could fulfill his wish, Germany stepped in front of him and nodded with his head.

"England, you're with Spain."

Germany hurried away, leaving a baffled England face to face with Spain. His sun-tanned olive skin contrasted noticeably with England's pale white complexion. Spain had a wide smile on his face and his green eyes were shimmering jovially. England gave him a half-smile in greeting before turning away to observe the room. England quickly spotted America, who was standing next to Russia with an obviously mortified look on his face. Russia was smiling cheerfully in his usual thick coat with his purple scarf wrapped around his neck.

They started the exercise. England looked back at Spain, who was still smiling happily.

"Right then," England began awkwardly, "let's begin. Fall back."

Spain blinked. Slowly, his smile fell from his face and he stared at England nervously.

"Something the matter?" England pressed impatiently, making Spain jump slightly.

"No, of course not," Spain spoke slowly, "just... I'd rather not."

England rolled his eyes, "This isn't the bloody pirating days, Spain, just fall back."

Spain eyed England hesitantly, and England just sighed in frustration. Seeing as how his partner was refusing to cooperate, England took the opportunity to look around and see how everyone else was doing. He saw America with his back to Russia, but America was clearly very on edge.

"Russia, stop poking me in the back!" America snapped suddenly.

"I am not though," Russia replied calmly, which was even more disturbing with that cheerful little smile of his.

"Wha-" America was about to respond, but a purple fabric was making its way around America's shoulders and wrapping itself around him. Russia's scarf had come to life.

America squeaked, "What is your scarf doing?"

Russia laughed amusedly, "He likes you!"

England turned away at the sound of America's terrified scream and saw Switzerland pointing his trusty handgun at China, who was working with Liechtenstein. Liechtenstein was trying to calm down her brother, but she was drowned out by the continual swearing coming from Romano, who was not happy to be working with France. All in all, the exercise was a complete disaster.

As everyone gave up and a fair few fights broke out, Japan sighed and turned to Germany, "Perhaps we should have started with something easier."

Germany nodded but made no attempt to quell the fights, as working with Austria had been too strenuous for him. Instead, the meeting dissolved, as usual, into chaos. England ended up retreating to the hallway, where he wouldn't have to argue with France or bicker with America. He watched quite a few nations storm past him and exit the building in a rage.

After some time, England was sure all the other nations had left. He went back inside the meeting hall to inspect the carnage, only to find a lone figure sitting in a chair, staring absent-mindedly into space. England approached from behind and cleared his throat to announce his presence.

America jumped and spun around to see England standing there. He quickly blinked and tried to clear his head, but it was full of whirling thoughts and he couldn't help but ask out loud.

"Have you ever wondered why people can't get along?"

England sighed and nodded his head, "I ask myself that question all the time."

America raised an eyebrow, "But you fight with France all the time!"

"And you fight with me," England retorted sharply, to which America had no reply.

The atmosphere was tense and uncomfortable as England and America considered each other in silence. America looked way too melancholy, but England wasn't quite sure what to say to try and address it. When it seemed that just standing there wasn't going to solve anything, which England should have probably realized sooner, he took to whistling a popular British tune. He wasn't sure why, but the wartime song was oddly comforting to him. America watched with reluctant amusement as he listened to the vaguely familiar song, and when England finished, America smiled ever so slightly.

"A bit nostalgic," England admitted off-handedly, "but it reminds me of a time when we were willing to look past our differences for a bit."

"We were still fighting though," America pointed out dully.

England shrugged, "That can't be helped sometimes. But we were still Allies, and we sorted it out."

America looked at England skeptically.

"If everyone agreed, there would never be progress," England finally expressed thoughtfully, "which would make this world a bloody terrible place to live."

With that, England bid goodbye to America with the wave of a hand and spun around to stroll out of the room. He left the meeting hall in silence and not once did America try to catch up to him and pester him. Whether he liked it or not was still to be decided, as he felt like something was missing without the young nation around, but he also knew there was a good reason for it.

_All in due time_, England thought to himself, and walked alone back to his hotel room.

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**I love Russia's scarf... If you were curious, the British tune I was referring to was the Colonel Bogey March. The tune itself is amazing, but it also has some _very _entertaining lyrics as well, if you feel like looking them up... Thanks for reading!**


	3. Life in Space

**Thank you to everyone who has read and/or reviewed, you're all really kind and I really appreciate it! Here's chapter 3, and for some reason I decided to focus on the descriptive language a lot more... I think I was feeling slightly poetic... As usual, please enjoy and thanks again! All rights to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

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England cradled the warm ceramic of a steaming cup of tea between his hands and smiled contentedly. Japan had invited him to his home shortly after the most recent meeting under the pretext that a couple of days away from the Western world might do him some good. England, not one to decline a polite offer from a friend, graciously accepted the invitation. He had to admit that though he did not think he had been all that stressed, Japan's home was nonetheless very relaxing. And the tea was excellent.

Japan stood up suddenly, drawing England out of his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, England," Japan bowed his head slightly, "I forgot about another appointment I have to attend to tonight."

England waved a hand dismissively, "It's quite alright. I can manage by myself."

Japan looked around nervously, "Even so, I just thought I should warn you. America should be visiting tonight, he had a new game he wanted to show me and I offered to let him stay for the night."

England was rather surprised by the new information, but he kept calm and smiled reassuringly at Japan so he did not seem bothered.

"Honestly, Japan, I don't mind," England said firmly.

Japan nodded his head and left the room to clean up a bit before America arrived. It was approaching dusk, and England figured that perhaps he would retreat into Japan's vast, well-maintained garden for a quiet stroll under the stars. He dismissed himself from the room and slid one of the wooden doors that led to the garden aside just as he heard a loud, familiar voice shout a greeting to Japan. England closed the door swiftly behind him and walked down a narrow, sandy pathway that snaked its way through towering shrubs and flowering plants. The blood-red stain of the setting sun caught England's eye and he watched the horizon for the rumored green flash of light. He stood still like that for a while, even as the night settled upon the sky and the first stars burst into view like a sudden beacon of light. The moon was nearly full, but not quite; a lopsided orb aloft in the depth of speckled black. England took his time appreciating the clarity with which he could view the night sky. Back in London, city lights and pollution blocked out the finer details of space, but here even the smallest, weakest stars had the ability to show off their shine. It was dwarfing to say the least, seeing the vastness to which the universe expanded, and to think that there was still so much people did not know. England smiled to himself as he recalled a memory from long ago, before heliocentricity was even a proposed theory. It was shocking to him that something that had once seemed so completely and utterly intangible and ridiculous could become a possibility and fact over time. He had never dreamed people could go to the moon until America had. Were there no ends to the surprises humanity had in store for him?

England had not realized he had slowly been drifting through the garden until he nearly stepped off the path and fell into Japan's hot springs. He caught himself just in time and felt the hot water splash his ankles. A thin shroud of steam curled up from the water and hung in the air like a spectral veil. England crouched down by the edge of the springs and dipped his fingers into the water. He flicked a few drops around absent-mindedly until a sudden shout caught his attention. England looked up to see the figure of America bounding outside, still fully dressed, and making a beeline for the hot springs that England was crouched next to. England watched in surprise as America launched himself off the ground and into the water, generating a massive splash that soaked England's clothes. England recoiled instinctively and hissed.

"Git!"

America froze in the middle of the hot springs and looked around in alarm. Through the steamy veil he saw England glaring daggers at him and his face lit up in joyful surprise. He swam closer to England and waved a hand in greeting, spattering more water.

"Hey, England! I didn't know you were here!" America exclaimed.

"I noticed," England replied bitterly, looking down with irritation at his drenched clothes. America noticed too and grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry, dude," America laughed to ease the atmosphere.

England rolled his eyes but decided to drop the subject. Instead, he looked over at the figure of America in the water, his hair dripping wet yet somehow still managing to maintain the form of that stupid ahoge called Nantucket. At least America had remembered to take off his glasses earlier.

"Is there any reason you decided to jump into the hot springs fully clothed?" England asked to change the subject.

America looked down at his clothes quickly before laughing, "I don't know, I just really felt like jumping in, you know?"

"No, I don't," England snapped.

America frowned and swam even closer, so he was right on the edge next to England.

"Really? But it feels nice!" America told him cheerfully, "Try it!"

England glanced quickly at him, "No thanks."

America pouted, "Aw, come on! You might like it!"

"I don't think I-"

England was cut off when America grabbed him by the wrists and pulled him into the hot springs. England tumbled into the water and felt his head go under. His vision was disoriented and he quickly pushed himself up to gasp for air. His hair was dripping wet and his clothes were ruined, but America was laughing hysterically at him despite the furious look England gave him.

"What the bloody fuck America!" England swore furiously, blinking water from his eyes.

America tried to gasp for air between breaths, but every time he tried to speak he looked at England and burst out laughing again. England's patience was drawn rather short, so without another word he approached America, grabbed him by the head, and dunked the idiot under the water. America flailed around wildly but was unable to free himself. When England was satisfied, he pulled America's head back above water and smirked evilly at the panicked look in America's eyes.

"Dude, don't do that!" America whined, but England ignored him. In his opinion, America had been begging for it.

They settled down into a kind of silent truce, in which America calmed down considerably and he began to stare up at the stars. England took the opportunity to sneak glances at America while he wasn't looking, wondering what ever went through the younger nation's mind. Once, while England was staring, America looked down and caught his eye. He smiled slightly and floated closer to England.

"Hey, England," America had to prod England to get the flustered nation to look at him again, "Have you ever wondered what life in space is like?"

England looked at him oddly, "Hasn't Tony ever told you anything about it?"

America shrugged his shoulders at the mention of his foul-mouthed alien friend, "I tried asking him once, but he just gave me a weird look and swore for a bit."

England laughed at the image until America cut in, "It reminded me a lot of you actually."

"Oi!" England snapped, offended, but America just smiled widely and chuckled.

"But seriously," America stopped laughing suddenly and frowned, "what do you think it would be like?"

England paused and looked back up at the vastness of the dark night sky. The stars twinkled harmlessly, but England narrowed his eyes at them.

"I wouldn't like it," England decided.

America tilted his head slightly, "Why?"

England closed his eyes and imagined the view of Earth's surface from way out in space. It sent a chill down his spine despite the heat of the hot springs.

"I'd feel too small and helpless," England muttered, "seeing Earth from space reminds me how small and inconsequential I really am. Nothing I have ever done and nothing I could ever do would matter when a giant meteor crashed into Earth and wiped us out."

America hummed in appreciation of England's answer. However, something about it did not sit well with him.

"You're not inconsequential, and what you do _does _matter," America spoke up.

England opened one eye and glanced at America through his peripheral vision, queuing America to explain his statement. America shrugged casually.

"I just think that, even if life were to end at some point, you still could have made someone happy," America spoke slowly as he reached for the right words to explain himself, "you matter to someone, somewhere, in this moment, and no matter what happens in the future... This moment is the most important."

England turned to face the American, shocked, only to be met with a sheepish smile. America rubbed the back of his neck and England raised an eyebrow.

"That's... Charmingly optimistic," England admitted quietly.

"It's true though," America mumbled so softly he was sure England hadn't heard him, "You matter to me."

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**Silly America, England can't hear you if you speak so quietly! This time America gets a turn to impart some wise words. Thanks again for reading, and chapter 4 isn't far off!**


	4. What Others Think of You

**A lovely magical chapter for you all, in which we meet some of England's fantasy friends! Please enjoy, and all rights to Hidekaz Himaruya~**

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England returned from his visit with Japan more stressed than he had been when he arrived. He had been in a rush to get back to his solitary home, but things never seemed to go his way. Now, he was stuck giving a presentation to the other countries about a subject he had been given approximately one night to learn by heart. Not only did he not want to make a fool of himself in front of everyone, but he also could not get his conversation with America out of his head. He tried to forget, he really did, but he just could not. Consequentially, he had not spoken with America in days, despite several inevitably rejected efforts on the younger nation's part. England himself could not explain just why he thought complete isolation was any sort of way to deal with it. In fact, he could not even explain what _it _was. All he knew was that whenever he thought of the hot springs under the night sky he felt himself burning up like he had been touched by lava and like he wanted to hide under a blanket and never face the world again. He may have already attempted the latter, unsuccessfully of course.

England was understandably horrified when, on top of it all, his normally very well-behaved fairy tale friends were trying to cause a scene. Tinkerbell was flying around tugging on countries' hair and causing several moments of extreme confusion. Captain Hook was chasing Tinkerbell around and England winced visibly when Captain Hook's hook accidentally poked France in the back, causing a very sudden yelp from the surprised nation. Worst of all, though, was Yuni. The unicorn was creeping up on America and staring at the nation's bomber jacket as if Christmas had come early. England tried to stop Yuni as discretely as possible, but the troublesome creature was completely ignoring him. England knew how much that bomber jacket meant to America, and he had a feeling America would not want it chewed up by a unicorn. So, when Yuni stuck out its neck to take a bite, England dropped what he was doing and yelled.

"YUNI!"

Yuni froze, as well as Tinkerbell and Captain Hook. And every nation in the room.

"Yuni, leave America alone! And TINKERBELL, stop messing with everyone AND CAPTAIN HOOK I told you to leave Tinkerbell alone!"

England glared daggers at his magical friends, who all hung their heads guiltily and sulked out of the meeting room. England huffed and turned his attention back to his speech. Unfortunately, when he tried to start again, he noticed all the nations were staring at him rather oddly.

"What?" England demanded rather impatiently, still irritated by his idiotic fairy friends.

"Dude," America was the first one to speak up, "um..."

"Are you feeling alright, England?" France stared at the Brit pointedly.

"It seems taking a break from Western life might have been too much for you," Japan bowed his head apologetically.

England heaved a deep sigh and tried to keep himself from exploding into a raging fit of swear words. He was going to have a _serious _talk with Yuni when this was over.

"I am perfectly _fine_," England assured them sharply.

"But you were seeing things that don't exist again, aru," China pointed out bluntly.

England's eye twitched ever so slightly and he hissed through gritted teeth, "They _do _exist, it's not my fault if you just cannot see them."

"Not this again!" China threw his arms up in the air in an exasperated gesture.

"Are you getting sick again, Angleterre?" France asked in concern.

"SHUT UP!" England snapped and shouted as loud as he could, "I'm FINE."

With that, England stormed out of the room and did not bother to look back. He was concerned with one thing and one thing only, and that was getting as far away from the other nations as possible. He hailed a taxi and fumed silently all the way back to his home in London, where he expected to find the culprits behind his current frustration. He unlocked the door to his house and stumbled through the darkness to find the light switch. As he expected, his three magical friends were all waiting for him in his living room.

"I hope you're happy," England snapped at them.

Yuni pawed at the carpet and Captain Hook scratched the back of his head with his hook. Tinkerbell didn't look too bothered, but she had the manners not to say anything.

"Thanks to you," England pointed angrily at them, "everyone now thinks I'm completely insane."

Yuni whinnied slightly, but a sharp glare from England silenced her.

"Shut up! I don't bring you to meetings so you can make a fool out of me!"

Tinkerbell jingled slightly and floated around England's head. He swatted her away irritably and crossed his arms.

"I don't want to hear it," He spat, "now get out of my living room before you manage to do something else stupid!"

The trio of mischievous creatures sauntered away, leaving England alone at last. He heaved a sigh and collapsed onto his couch, massaging his temples. He recollected all the weird looks the other nations had given him and scowled. The bloody idiots couldn't recognize magic even if it was staring them right in the face, so what did he expect? A bit of credibility and respect wouldn't hurt, would it? Of course not, but it was a luxury that England could apparently not have. He sunk deeper into the depths of his couch and glared at the opposite wall as if it had just gravely offended him.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. It made England jump and he sat up straight, staring at the door suspiciously. After a few silent seconds, there was another series of knocks, louder this time. England groaned and regretfully got up to answer the door. He grasped the doorknob and yanked it back.

"What do you want-"

England immediately received a hard knock to his forehead and he staggered back.

"Oh dude I'm so sorry!"

England cringed when he recognized the voice of America. He rubbed his forehead and looked up to see two wide orbs of bright blue filled with concern staring at him, causing him to jump back.

"What the fuck?" England scowled at the American from a more comfortable distance.

"I'm so sorry! But you weren't answering the door so I was gonna knock again when you opened the door but it was too late and I accidentally-"

"Shut up, idiot, I get it!" England snapped.

America fell silent and continued to stare at England with concern. England took a deep breath and stopped rubbing his forehead. He gave America one last angry look and turned around to go back inside without another word, hoping America might leave him alone. When he heard the door slam closed, he almost dared to believe America was really gone, until his dreams were dashed by the obnoxious voice.

"You left the meeting so fast I hardly had time to catch up to you!" America exclaimed with a pout.

England rolled his eyes, "That was the point, you idiot."

America frowned, "But I wanted to talk to you!"

England bit back an insult and tried to keep his voice even, "I can assure you, I'm perfectly _fine _and I don't need any more funny cracks at my mental health, thank you very much."

Not only was England not in the mood to deal with annoying insults from others, but of all the people that could have followed him home it had to be America. America, the one he was trying to avoid!

_You matter to me_.

England was sure America hadn't meant him to hear that sentence the night they were in the hot springs together, and though he hadn't said anything England had in fact heard it, and it plagued his thoughts like a deadly virus. He told himself to ignore it, to dismiss it, to forget all about it, but in those moments where his mind wandered he could still hear America's voice and see his earnest face.

America shook his head, "I'm not here to insult you, dude! I was just worried 'cuz you looked upset."

"Very astute observation," England rolled his eyes.

England noticed the distinct flicker of hurt in America's eyes, but it was gone in a heartbeat. Instead, his eyes lit up and America dashed into England's kitchen. England followed him, not willing to allow America to run loose in his house. When he reached the kitchen, America was already rummaging through the cupboards.

"What do you think you're doing?" England demanded icily.

America glanced over his shoulder and smiled slightly.

"I'm making some tea!"

"Why?" England flinched when America almost dropped a teacup on the floor.

"Because you like tea," America stated plainly, "and Japan told me it's supposed to be relaxing."

"As long as you don't destroy my kitchen," England threatened America but resigned himself to his fate.

A few minutes later, America had created some sort of tea and brought it out to England, who had collapsed back onto his couch with his head buried in the pillows. America handed the cup to England with a smile and England took one sip before choking back a gag. The tea tasted like dishwater, and based on America's knowledge on the art of tea he would not be surprised if it actually was.

"Listen, America, I really appreciate it," England tried to be tactful with his words as he strategically placed the dishwater tea out of his reach, "but you don't need to be here."

America flopped down onto the couch without a response and stretched out. He didn't make eye contact with England, instead looking around the room with vague interest. England was just about to suggest, more firmly, that America leave when America spoke.

"Have you ever wondered what others think of you?"

"I don't give a damn what others think," England grumbled.

America quirked an eyebrow and England shot him a dirty look.

"Fine," England huffed, "maybe I have, but I found it best to just ignore what every idiot on the face of the Earth has to say."

America frowned, "Every idiot, huh?"

"Of course," England confirmed bitterly.

"So, have you ever wondered what I think of you?"

England looked sharply at America, who chuckled awkwardly, "You know, since you call me an idiot so much."

England narrowed his eyes at the younger nation and a tense silence settled on the room. England was highly suspicious of America, but he looked just as oblivious as ever.

"Nothing that I'd care to hear," England finally answered harshly.

America blinked in surprise. England stood up and took the dishwater tea to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder as he went.

"Really, thanks for the visit," England said once again, "but like I said, you're not needed here."

America stood up too and tried to protest, "Look I know you said that but-"

England cut him off, "Fine, let me revise that. You're not _wanted _here, so get out."

With that, England disappeared into the kitchen, leaving a stunned American in his wake. England stood in front of the sink, watching the running water fall from the tap, until he heard the front door slam closed. And then he was alone at last.

* * *

**So that didn't go over so well for America... Awkward... Well, I hope you enjoyed it!**


	5. If the President Married the Queen

**So I heard someone ask this question on a podcast and I thought it was perfect considering this story. A bit of a silly question but hey, it works!**

* * *

England had a hard time focusing over the next couple of days. The usual load of paperwork he worked hard to complete punctually began to pile up on his desk, but he did not have the motivation to look at them. Instead he curled up on his couch and read day in and day out. It was not until a call from a certain British Prime Minister reminding him his work was due tomorrow and that there would be certain consequences for not finishing it did England reluctantly sit down at his desk and stare at the huge stacks of paper. He was royally fucked.

All through the night England slaved away with pen in hand. The pen may be mightier than the sword, but it also had the uncanny ability to strain the one wielding it more than the true enemy, paper. When the first rays of dawn trickled in through England's window, he was a zombie. Putting the finishing touches on his work, England stumbled downstairs with briefcase in hand and left to deliver the documents. He decided, for the sake of safety, to hail a taxi, and he even managed to take a quick nap on the way. As usual, the Prime Minister was waiting for him, and England dully handed him the briefcase before attempting to go back home and sleep for eternity. Unfortunately, escape would not be that easy.

"Hold on, England," England cringed at the sound of the Prime Minster's voice because he already knew he was doomed, "America and the President are arriving today and I expect you to be here to welcome them."

"_What_?" England gasped in horror, acutely aware of the awkwardness between America and himself.

"Surely you haven't forgotten?"

England did not want to admit that yes, he had forgotten, mostly because he just didn't want to remember in the first place. Unfortunately, there was no way to get out of the situation so he just braced himself for the worst. Surely enough, when England heard the sound of crunching pavement under tires he knew they had arrived. The doors opened and in walked the President, followed closely behind by America, who was looking around with a goofy smile on his face. The visitors approached England and the Prime Minister, and they exchanged greetings. England merely nodded stiffly to America, who despite looking displeased by the gesture remained silent as well. England felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach, but he quickly tried to dismiss it. Compromising now would just make him look weak and wishy-washy.

As per tradition, America and England's bosses left the two nations alone in a separate meeting room. They had learned rather early on that trying to have political talks with the two personifications around slowed progress down significantly. They preferred to deal with them separately, after they had actually managed to talk about something. So, England found himself, once again, alone with America. He was convinced the universe hated him.

Usually, by this point, America was already chattering away about something trivial or goofy, but not this time. England sat down in a comfortable leather chair and kept his back to America. He heard the younger nation shuffling around, but he closed his eyes and tried to ignore it. Unfortunately, that was a poor decision on England's part. Exhaustion took hold of him and he felt himself slipping quickly out of consciousness.

England was not unaccustomed to dreaming, but hardly ever had his dream self felt such a sense of anxiety before. He was used to fear, he was used to pain, and he was used to sorrow, but this kind of anxiety was entirely new. A thick veil of white fog wrapped around him and he could see nothing. Every step he took disoriented him and he no longer understood what he was doing or why.

_"England."_

The veil of fog began to press against his body and it was hard to breathe. He was cracking, he could feel it.

_"England."_

Someone was calling out a name, but was it his?

_"England!"_

England gasped for breath and jolted forward in his seat. His left cheek stung and the face of America was alarmingly close to his own. England immediately responded by pushing the younger nation away.

"What the _hell _was that for?" England demanded furiously, trying to slow down his rapid breathing and accelerated heart rate. He felt slightly dizzy.

"You were freaking out in your sleep," America told him with a nervous expression on his face, "are you ok?"

"How many times do I have to tell you to _leave me alone_," England snapped at him.

America flinched but this time he did not stay quiet.

"In case you haven't noticed," America bit back irritably, taking England by surprise, "we're kind of stuck in the same room together and supposed to be having a meeting, so no, I can't leave you alone!"

England remained silent as America glared daggers at him. He realized that yes, he had been harsh to America, but America was more than upset. He was pissed. And pissing off America was hardly ever a good thing. In fact, it was very, very bad.

"Look, if you hate me, _fine_," America hissed out as if it physically hurt him, "but we still have to talk, at least so we can trick our bosses."

England considered America through narrowed eyes. On one hand, he was horrified. He hadn't meant to make America think he hated him, but to make it worse, America seemed to accept it. On the other hand, if England tried to apologize he would be giving in. He cursed himself for his over-inflated pride.

"Fine," England finally agreed curtly.

America sat down in front of England and rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Just realize," England warned America tersely, "the only reason I'm talking to you is to get this over with."

America shrugged nonchalantly, which make England writhe with burning anger. He wanted to shout at America and tell him to stop being such a clueless idiot.

"You know," America courageously continued carrying on conversation, "I always like visiting London."

England rolled his eyes.

"You guys have so much cool stuff here! I mean, you have that bell tower clock thing and that giant eyeball thing, oh and that cool old lady!"

England winced, "You mean Big Ben, the London Eye, and Queen Elizabeth II?"

"Yeah! Dude, she's awesome!"

England had to admire America's stubborn persistence. It reminded him a lot of himself. They were both too stubborn for their own good.

"Have you ever wondered what would happen if the President married the Queen?" America asked suddenly, "Because I think that would be totally awesome."

England looked scandalized, "No."

"Come on," America urged, "just think about it."

"I refuse to think of something so utterly idiotic," England folded his arms.

"Aww, don't be so uptight," America pouted unhappily.

"I'm not being uptight," England snapped, "it just would never happen!"

"But what if it did happen?" America insisted.

"It wouldn't," England protested stubbornly.

America sighed, "Come on, you're no fun."

England glowered at America and replied in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "I apologize then."

He really was apologizing, at least for how he had acted recently, because he never meant to be so harsh to the younger nation, but he would be damned before he said that out loud.

"I still think it would be awesome," America said with a little smile.

England raised an eyebrow, "And why is that?"

America shrugged, "I don't know, I just think it would be. Plus it would give me more excuses to come visit you!"

"As if you didn't have enough of those already," England pointed out, recalling all the different explanations America had given him over the years as to why he randomly showed up at England's place, making him chuckle slightly.

America laughed too, "I can never have too many. Besides, admit it, you like it when I visit!"

"You wish, git," England replied in a noncommittal manner.

America's laughter faded away and he stared at England, "Yeah... I do."

With that, America stood up and looked away. He started to make his way to the door before he glanced over his shoulder at England, who was watching him guardedly.

"I forgive you, by the way," America told him quietly.

Then, he opened the doors and left the room, leaving England stunned in his wake. At first, England wanted to believe America was talking about the sarcastic comment England made earlier in the conversation, but he knew that wasn't what America was referring to. England smiled. He was really glad it wasn't.

* * *

**It takes a lot of strength to forgive someone without hearing an apology from them, but is it always the right choice? We'll have to see... Thank you again to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited this, you are all amazing and I really do appreciate it! **


	6. If We're Being Controlled Like Sims

**Haha ok I don't know about you guys, but I used to think about this a lot when I was younger, plus I was obsessed with the Sims. As usual, all rights to Hidekaz Himaruya, and I hope you enjoy~**

* * *

England didn't see America around for the next couple of days. As far as he was concerned, America was busy actually doing work for a change, but there was also a small, paranoid part of England's mind that made him believe that maybe America was avoiding him. Surely not. Why would America avoid him? Had they not moved on? What else could possibly be holding America back from being his usual, annoying self?

He shook his head. He was being foolish, surely he was. America was just busy working. England was just about to head out so he could return home for the day when he heard the sound of furious typing from one of the empty meeting rooms. He crept up to the door and pushed it open ever so slightly to see America, his face lit up unnaturally by the bright screen of his computer. The door creaked and America looked up in surprise to see England standing there watching him. England internally cursed the door for giving him away, but America just smiled widely and waved.

"Hey England!" America greeted him happily, "What's up?"

"Nothing," England quickly tried to explain himself, "I just heard typing so I wondered who was in here."

"Oh, well that would be me," America laughed, "I've been so busy working lately that I came in here to relax for a bit."

England wasn't sure why knowing America really had been busy working made him feel so relieved, but nonetheless England looked at him skeptically, "And relaxing involves furiously typing on a computer?"

America glanced down at his computer, "Don't tell anyone, but I was playing a computer game. I'm not _supposed _to, but I'd go crazy if I didn't get a chance to take a break!"

"Of course you would," England teased him lightly.

"Who wouldn't!?" America defended himself, "But anyways, I think we're heading back to the States tomorrow so I can slack off for a bit!"

England ignored that last bit about America wanting to be lazy in favor of the fact that was more pressing to him, "You're leaving tomorrow?"

America gave England a weird look, "Yeah, you didn't know?"

"Obviously not," England pointed out unhappily.

America frowned, "Oh, I guess I've been busier than I thought..."

England nodded quietly in agreement. Remembering that America was probably trying to hide from someone, England closed the door behind him and sauntered over to join America on his side of the table. America closed his computer screen to give England his full attention and a friendly, bright smile.

"How come you never play computer games, England?" America asked suddenly.

England rolled his eyes, "Why would I?"

"'Cuz they're fun!" America answered immediately, "You should try one sometime!"

England chuckled at the childishly hopeful look in America's eyes, "I think I'll pass."

The childishly hopeful look vanished and was replaced by a wickedly mischievous one.

"Maybe you won't have a choice," America suggested ominously.

England gave America a scornful look, "I highly doubt there's anything you can do."

"Oh, but it's not me," America smiled evilly, "it's someone else."

"And who would that be?" England asked, putting on an air of casual disinterest.

America shrugged, "I don't actually know."

"As usual," England scoffed.

"But seriously, dude," America added obstinately.

"Forgive me if I don't feel threatened," England quipped.

"Seriously, though," America continued, "Have you ever wondered if we're being controlled like Sims or something?"

England blinked in confusion.

"Like what?"

"Like Sims!" America exclaimed, "Don't you know what Sims are?"

England shook his head, "What the hell are Sims?"

America looked at him incredulously, "Sims! It's like a game where you control these people's' lives."

"That sounds like tedious micromanaging," England stated with distaste.

America pouted, "Aw, but it's fun!"

"America," England sighed, "I don't think we're being controlled by some lazy ass sitting at a computer."

"How would you know, though?" America countered with a meaningful look in his eyes.

"Don't be stupid," England chided him.

"It's not stupid! Haven't you ever gone somewhere only to forget what you were going to do there in the first place? Maybe it's because we're being controlled by someone!" America explained excitedly.

England massaged his forehead, "Its called poor memory or being distracted."

"Aw, come on England! Just admit it could be possible!" America persisted.

England stood up and gave America a stern look, "No, America, I will never admit such a ridiculous thing."

England attempted to escape the company of America, but the younger nation followed him out and tried to convince him of the plausibility of his theory. Even as England tried to go home, America was still attempting to convince him. When England got home, America followed him inside. Fortunately America had dropped the subject when England whacked him over the back of the head, but now England had a surprise visitor staying with him for the evening.

"We should watch a movie!" America suggested excitedly, diving for the couch and curling under a blanket.

England sighed internally and strolled over to the living room to join America.

"Fine," England huffed, "Which movie?"

"Let's watch a horror movie!" America suggested happily.

England gave him a disbelieving look and scolded him, "You get scared from horror movies, you idiot, why do you keep insisting on watching them?"

America shrugged and shot England a mischievous glance, "Maybe it's not me..."

England glared back and warned him, "Don't you dare say it."

America winked, "It's the person controlling me."

"Shut up!" England snapped and hit America again.

The other nation laughed and easily brushed off the hit. The two selected a horror movie and England joined America on the couch. When England sat down America tossed the blanket over both of them. England closed his eyes and hoped that maybe he could get in a nap during the movie, at least before America inevitably woke him up out of fear. The movie started and England tuned it all out... He hadn't realized he was so tired...

"ENGLAND!"

The next thing England knew, he was being gripped tightly by someone. He blinked quickly and looked sideways to see America's face buried in his jacket, his arms wrapped around England's waist. England glared angrily at America and attempted to pry the nation off him.

"Oi, get off me!" England hissed and tried to pull away.

America shook his head urgently. A girl screamed on the TV and America jumped slightly.

"Why are you hugging me?" England demanded unhappily and continued to struggle.

America stopped shivering and he pulled away. He looked somewhat startled. England leaned away successfully and shot an irritated look at America. America shook his head in a daze.

"It must have been the person controlling me!" America declared loudly.

It took all of England's strength not to fall for the obvious bait. He lightly pushed America away and huffed.

"You are a git."

"Thanks," America smiled widely and winked.

England looked away and sunk back down into the couch. America was still pressed next to him, but at least he had escaped from the hug. England shivered. Something about the hug had scared him more than the movie, because for a moment, he could have sworn America wasn't scared himself. It was as if America... Enjoyed it? England scolded his brain. Of course that wasn't the case! England stared at the TV screen, not really focusing anymore. America was shivering again, but he didn't try to hug England again. It was thoroughly mystifying, but when England tried to convince himself he was just overreacting, he had the odd feeling that perhaps he wasn't.

* * *

**Is England finally getting a clue? What? Impossible! The power of denial is strong with this one...**


	7. What Real Love is Like

**Hello everyone! Sorry, I fell behind on my schedule! I've been taking Advil since Friday but it makes me completely exhausted, and hence no writing has been completed until today... To make up for it, I unintentionally wrote a much longer chapter than usual! Enjoy, and as usual all rights to Hidekaz Himaruya~**

* * *

England groaned and rolled over in bed. There was something ringing in his ears, but he tried his best to ignore it and go back to sleep. It was too early in the morning, far too early. Unfortunately, ignoring the problem did not make it go away. Instead, the ringing persisted. England swore it just got louder and louder every time. It was so loud and irritating that England could not manage to go back to sleep. When he realized that the ringing would not go away no matter what, England rolled over again in bed and unceremoniously tossed back the blankets. He sat up and blinked. The ringing was coming from the phone. England narrowed his eyes. Who could possibly be daft enough to call him so early in the morning? England slid out of bed and shuffled over to the phone with a list of possibilities in his head. He picked up the receiver and mumbled through slurred speech.

"Hello?"

"England!" He recognized the urgent voice of America on the other end.

England scowled, "Do you realize how early in the morning it is here?"

"Uh, isn't it night though?" America asked cluelessly.

"Time zones, idiot…" England hissed.

"Oh, right," America dismissed it quickly, "anyways-"

England hung up the phone and sighed. He planned to go back to sleep, but the phone immediately started ringing again. He wanted to ignore it, he really did, but he knew America would not stop calling until England answered, so he decided just to get it over with. He picked up the phone again.

"What?"

"England!"

"What is it, America?" England huffed impatiently.

"I can't find Biscuit!" America exclaimed worriedly.

England frowned. Biscuit was America's cat, and though he had a bit of a temper he never wandered off somewhere America couldn't find him.

"Where did you try looking for him?" England asked.

"Everywhere! I can't find him!"

It was unusual to hear America so genuinely distressed, but Biscuit was very important to him. The white and ginger cat was a part of his family.

"Calm down," England tried to soothe the nation, "try looking around again."

"Ok," England listened as America began to search again.

He heard footsteps as he assumed America was walking downstairs. He could picture America's home in his mind. He must be in the living room by now.

"How's it going?" England asked over the phone.

"I still can't find him! What if he- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?" America shouted all of a sudden.

"What?" England asked sharply.

He heard America shout something, and the next thing he knew he heard a thump as if the phone had been dropped on the floor. England began to worry as he heard furniture being knocked around.

"America? America? What the hell is going on?" England tried to get some information on the situation, but America could not hear England over the noise.

England heard a cat hissing and wondered if that was Biscuit. What would Biscuit be hissing at though? England was just wondering if he should call someone else to help when the commotion died down. He heard someone pick up the phone.

"America?" England asked urgently.

"What the fuck," England sighed in relief when America finally replied.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" England demanded in confusion.

"I found Biscuit," America told him, "being choked to death by Russia's scarf."

"_What?_" England was not sure he had heard that properly.

"Russia's scarf was _choking my cat_," America sounded disturbingly calm, "in my own house."

England was not sure he wanted to know, but he asked anyways, "What was Russia's scarf doing in your house?"

"I DON'T KNOW," America yelled suddenly, "but it nearly killed my cat!"

England shivered. Russia's scarf was apparently a master of breaking and entering, and that fact greatly unsettled him.

"You should probably return it to Russia," England told America faintly.

"No way am I visiting Russia!" America immediately rejected the idea.

England tried to reason with the nation, "He's going to want his scarf back, you know."

"I don't want the scarf in my house, but I don't want to visit _Russia_ either!" America whined unhappily.

England rolled his eyes, "Too bad, just get it over with."

England could hear America whimper on the other end. He knew America and Russia did not particularly get along, but he had always been sure a large part of that had been America just being childish. Now that Russia's scarf had tried to kill America's cat, things would be even worse.

"Come with me," America demanded suddenly.

"Sorry, what?" England blinked in surprise.

"Come with me to return this stupid scarf," America repeated.

England shook his head even though America could not see him, "No, thank you. Do it yourself."

"Please?" America begged.

"No," England refused.

"_Please?_" America begged again.

England could just imagine the look on America's face. Unfortunately, imaging the face made him feel guilty, and he immediately regretted the decision.

"No, America," England denied the offer.

"Come on, England, please?" America whined.

England's eye twitched and he sighed audibly, "You need to learn to do things by yourself."

"I know how!" America protested, "Just this one time, England? It won't even take long!"

"Fine."

"Yay! See you soon!"

With that, England found himself agreeing to a trip to Russia's house. True to his word, America showed up later in the day with a sheepish smile and a cage in his hands. England looked at the cage and saw a purple scarf sitting inside it. England gave America a disbelieving look, but America just shook his head.

"It tried to choke me when I picked it up again," He explained unhappily.

England looked at the scarf again. It was just sitting there in a cage.

"Don't test it," America whispered, "its evil."

England was not going to stoop to the level of testing a scarf's patience, so he dropped the subject. He did not, however, neglect to give America several unamused glares as they made their way to Russia's house. When they finally did arrive, it was late evening. America glared at the front door as if it had just insulted him.

"Don't be so unsociable," England criticized America testily.

America gave him a scandalized look and knocked on the door. They waited outside for a while before someone opened the door. It was Russia. He saw America and England and smiled happily.

"Hello, friends," He greeted them kindly, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah," America glowered, "you can explain what your fucking scarf was doing in my house."

America shoved the cage into Russia's arms. Russia looked moderately surprised and peered inside the cage to see his purple scarf sitting inside. When he saw it, his eyes lit up and he set the cage aside.

"You found my scarf! I was looking for him!" Russia exclaimed cheerfully, "Please, come inside for a bit."

America huffed, "Yeah, like I said, it was inside my house. Trying to kill my cat and me."

Russia seemed unperturbed by the news. He stepped back and ushered America and England inside with a happy welcome. America shot England a desperate glance, but England just glared back at him and walked into Russia's house politely. The inside was vast and rather empty. England could hear their footsteps echo as Russia took his caged scarf and led them down a hall to the main living room.

"You still have to explain yourself, you know," America told Russia angrily.

Russia nodded as he let his scarf out of its cage. It immediately jumped out and coiled around Russia's neck. Russia smiled happily as the scarf nuzzled him before settling down and becoming motionless again, as a normal scarf should be.

"I told you," Russia reminded America, "he likes you!"

America opened his mouth to argue but no words came out. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times before shaking his head, "Scarves can't like people!"

Russia shrugged. America looked like he was about to say something rather unpleasant, and England, who was hoping just to leave as soon as possible without anything bad happening, elbowed America in the side to shut him up. America gave him another look but England shook his head slightly.

"Anyways," America hissed out instead, "we should be going, right England?"

England shrugged casually and glanced at the clock. It was getting late, and night had fallen outside. It would be a bother to find their way back home in the dark.

"You can stay here for the night," Russia offered with a smile.

America was about to protest, but England cut him off, "That would be nice, thank you Russia."

Russia nodded and looked at America pointedly. His scarf slithered around slightly and America suppressed a squeak of fear. When Russia dismissed himself and gave them instructions to find the guest rooms, America sighed in relief.

"America, control yourself," England snapped.

"Why would you accept his invitation to stay!?" America ignored England and rounded on the Brit as if he was a traitor.

"Because it's too dark outside to make it home and there's nothing wrong with Russia's home," England told America sternly.

"Nothing wrong!? I'm going to be strangled in my sleep!" America gulped.

England rolled his eyes, "No, you won't be. Now help me find the kitchen, I could use a drink of water."

America pouted and followed England down one of the hallways. They wandered through the large, ominously empty house, and England wondered what it was like to live by yourself in such a place like Russia did. Surely it got lonely? Eventually, after many dead ends and possible thoughts that they had managed to get lost in Russia's house, they found the kitchen. England spotted the fridge and opened it. Inside, he found an unlabeled glass bottle of water and he took it happily. America handed him a large glass of water and kept one for himself. When both the glasses were full, England raised his slightly in a cheer and downed the glass in one gulp. That was a mistake. The water burned as it slid down England's throat and left a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. England glanced up at America and saw a look of concern on the younger nation's face.

"Hey, England," America began slowly, "This doesn't taste like water…"

England nodded, "It tastes like… Vodka."

America blinked, "Vodka."

"Vodka," England echoed, "We just drank an entire large glass of vodka."

"Russia's vodka," America added in.

"Right," England confirmed.

"Oops," America chuckled nervously.

"We should probably get to bed before the alcohol kicks in," England told him blankly. He had a feeling they would be very drunk in a few moments. He carefully set down the vodka and looked at America, whose cheeks had turned red.

"Yeah," America nodded slowly.

A few minutes later found them sprawled out on the floor of Russia's kitchen, large glass bottles of vodka in hand. They were completely and hopelessly drunk, not having had the endurance to fight the influence of alcohol long enough to get to sleep. America was giggling like an idiot and sipping on his glass. England scowled and pushed America to try and get him to stop. America just toppled over onto the floor, still laughing.

"Shut up!" England snapped. His head was oddly fuzzy and he wasn't sure where he was anymore.

America looked up at England and laughed again, "You're blushing!"

England actually did blush at this comment, "No I'm not! It's the vodka!"

"Do you have a crush on vodka or something?" America asked stupidly. He looked at the vodka in his hands and held it away, "I'm sorry, dude, I had no idea! I didn't mean to hit on it!"

England tried to punch America but he ended up missing and falling forward onto the American's shoulder, "I don't have a crush on vodka, you idiot!"

America sighed in relief, "Good, you scared me for a second."

England gave him a look, "Why would you care?"

America looked at England, and through the haze of alcohol England also saw that America's face was completely red, "Because I do, ok?"

"That's not an answer," England pouted.

America leaned against one of the cabinets and England lost his balance. His head landed in America's lap and he looked up to see the younger nation looking down at him. America grinned stupidly and waved. England waved back.

"My turn to ask a question," America slurred, "have you ever wondered what real love is like?"

"What?" England asked blankly.

"Real love!" America exclaimed suddenly with a far off look in his eyes.

"Real love?" England echoed.

America nodded, "Yeah, you know, the kind of love you see in movies and stuff? The lovey kind of love."

"Lovely lovey love?" England asked, and America nodded.

"Yeah!"

"I don't know," England lifted up a hand to look at it, "what about you?"

America bit his lip and looked down at England, "I don't know, either. Maybe?"

"Maybe?" England asked. He tried to sit up but it was too much effort so he just kept resting his head on America's lap. America did not seem to mind.

"Yeah," America nodded, "it feels like it… But it's never hurt so much before, either. It feels easier to give up, but when I try giving up it hurts even more. Nothing I do works. Is that love?"

"How should I know?" England whined, "She sounds like a bitch."

"It's a guy," America muttered quietly.

England waved a hand dismissively, "Ok, _he _sounds like a bitch then. I don't care, love whoever you want to!"

"But how can I _tell_?" America asked grumpily.

"Ask them," England answered plainly, "or kiss them. You know you can tell if its love by a kiss? You feel something."

"What?" America sounded terrified.

"Yeah," England nodded his head.

"You just kiss them and you can tell?" America was very confused, but England just grinned.

"Here, I'll demonstrate," England winked, "kiss me and see how it feels."

America's face fell and he looked extremely uncomfortable. England rolled his eyes and reached his hand up to poke America's face.

"Come on," England urged, "hurry up."

"I don't want to though…" America's voice faded under the look England was giving him.

"Do it," England hissed.

America flinched, "Ok, ok!"

England grinned triumphantly and closed his eyes. He felt America moving under him as he shifted to lean down, but he kept his eyes closed. He could feel America quivering slightly and wondered why the younger nation was acting so jumpy. It was just a kiss.

After the kiss, England felt just as jumpy. When America's lips touched his, it was like being struck with lightning. England immediately opened his eyes and felt like he was out of breath. America pulled away quickly, his face an entirely new shade of red, and England gasped for breath.

"Bloody hell America are you trying to kill me?" England demanded angrily.

"Sorry!" America apologized quickly.

England had no idea why he reacted so intensely to a kiss. He had kissed other people before, but none of them had ever made him feel like that. It was electrifying and terrifying and exhilarating and why the hell was he freaking out so much he just kissed America is that not completely horrifying what the hell? America was just kind of sitting there like a deer in headlights, and England stared stupidly up at him. He wanted to say something about how you could tell if you loved someone through a kiss, because he certainly felt _something_, but he also felt rather tired and uncomfortable. He rolled off America's lap and landed face down on the kitchen floor. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Confront America. Confront America. Confront America.

England fell asleep moments after in a haze of alcohol and adrenaline.

* * *

**The return of Russia's scarf! Getting these two drunk... VERY entertaining... Can't wait to see how they deal with the aftermath of this~**


	8. Why People Keep Secrets

**Time to deal with the aftermath! And the dreaded hangover! Please enjoy this shorter chapter, thank you for reading, and all rights to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

* * *

England opened one eye and immediately regretted his decision. It was bright, and the light hurt his eyes. He squeezed his eye tight shut and winced at the pulsating pain throbbing at his temples. He felt like his mouth was made of sand, but his muscles ached too much to sit up and find some water. He groaned quietly and jumped when someone spoke.

"Good morning, England!"

England looked up and opened one reluctant eye to see Russia standing over him. England frowned and let his head fall back onto the floor with another groan.

"What are you doing on the floor of my kitchen?" Russia asked politely.

"Sleeping," England grumbled unhappily and tried to swat away Russia until he realized a crucial fact, "did you just say the floor of your kitchen?"

England bolted to sit upright and cringed in horror when he saw that he had indeed been lying down on the floor. Russia backed away slightly as England stumbled to his feet, an act which he regretted once the blood rushed uncomfortably to his head and blacked out his vision.

"I was not aware you used the kitchen as a bed," Russia commented lightly, "or that you and America slept together?"

"Sorry, _what?_" England shouted in surprise at the insinuation and sharply glanced down at the floor.

America was sprawled out on the nearby floor space, passed out and looking rather worse for wear. His glasses were askew and his mouth was open as he snored lightly. England blinked and stared for a disproportionately long time at America's lips.

"No," England shook his head wildly after a moment, "no no no no no."

Russia titled his head to one side as England just stood there repeatedly shouting no. England felt his own lips with his cold fingers and his eyes widened in horror. He rounded on Russia and gave him such a deadly glare that Russia blinked in surprise.

"What kind of complete idiot keeps vodka in his fridge like that?" England yelled furiously at Russia.

"It's for when I'm thirsty," Russia explained calmly.

"You just drink vodka whenever you're thirsty?" England asked incredulously. Russia shrugged and England sighed heavily.

"Listen," England pointed a finger at Russia, "America and I are _not _together, got it?"

Russia nodded with an innocent smile, "Right, of course not! I will keep your secret, friend."

England hissed, "There is no secret! It's simple. We are not together."

Russia nodded again, "Ok!"

England had the distinct impression that Russia did not understand what he was trying to say. He also had the distinct impression that he was trying to convince himself just as much as Russia that nothing was going on between him and America. He had been drunk. That was the only explanation for his actions. Besides, America had told him he already liked someone else, there was no point in even trying. England had to wonder who it was, though, because America and romance went together about as well as cats and dogs in England's opinion. Or maybe America had changed and England just hadn't noticed before. England shook his head. He was over thinking everything. America had a right to privacy and England's wouldn't try to pry. But whoever it was would be very lucky, because damn that kiss was intoxicating…

"England, you look all red, are you ok?" Russia asked suddenly, shocking England out of his thoughts.

England gasped slightly and cleared his throat, "Of course I am!"

"Really? Because you were staring at America and you started turning all red and I thought-"

"Yes, yes, ok, SHUT UP!" England interrupted Russia with a wild wave of his hand just as the body of America started to stir.

America opened his eyes and stared blankly up at England and Russia. He looked from England to Russia, then back to England. He glanced down at the floor of the kitchen and the cupboard by his head and blinked. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples with a loud groan.

"My head hurts…" America whined, trying to sit up but failing miserably.

England averted his gaze so he would not make eye contact with America, though he was still acutely aware of America drilling holes into the back of his head with his own gaze.

"What happened last night…?" America asked hesitantly.

Russia giggled slightly, "It's a secret!"

With that, he winked at England and drifted out of the kitchen. England was determined to look anywhere but America as the younger nation found his footing and finally stood up. He staggered to gain his balance and groaned again.

"Seriously, England," America mumbled through a haze of pain, "what happened last night?"

England looked around shiftily and shrugged, "I don't really know either."

He knew he was lying, of course, but there was no way he was going to narrate to America the account of their kiss so he pretended he did not remember anything either. America frowned and looked down the hall where Russia had vanished.

"That asshole," America grumbled, "have you ever wondered why people keep secrets?"

England gulped and squirmed with guilt, "It's weird, isn't it?"

America nodded angrily, "Like, seriously, just tell us dude! It's not cool to keep secrets from everyone, especially me!"

England shrugged noncommittally, "Maybe he's not comfortable with you knowing."

America glanced suspiciously at England, "Did he tell you that?"

"What? No! I'm just suggesting," England dismissed quickly and looked away again.

"Oh," America huffed, "I don't see why he wouldn't tell me though, and it's not like I would use it against him."

England rolled his eyes, which ended up hurting more than he intended, "How should he know that, though?"

America glanced at England with a pout, "Aw, come on, do I _look _like the kind of person that would do that?"

"You look like a stupid American," England retorted sharply.

America threw his hands up in surrender and wailed, "I never knew you were so defensive of Russia!"

England fumed, "I'm not defensive of him! I'm just defending a perfectly viable standpoint!"

"So you agree with the idea that it's ok for people to keep secrets?" America asked him suspiciously.

England, who was tired of being grilled and who really wanted to get away from America and his stupid pair of electrifying lips, grimaced, "I agree with the idea that people aren't always comfortable with things and you should give them time to sort it out on their own. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to get back to."

With that, England whisked out of the kitchen, headache pounding against his eyes and temples. Russia was waiting for him at the front door, and it looked like he had heard the little dispute between America and himself. England's face paled and he glared at Russia one final time before storming out the door. As he stormed down the front path, he heard Russia's voice echo from the house.

"America, are you ok? You look scared!"

* * *

**Poor America just woke up and he already has to deal with England, who isn't exactly remaining calm... I know this chapter is shorter, and you'll have to forgive me but I have lots of work to do so my updating schedule will probably get delayed again. I apologize!**


	9. Why People Dream

**A lovely update! I wrote this in between my busy schedule, but don't worry, I have something planned for Valentine's Day... *evil smirk* Enjoy! And as usual all rights to Hidekaz Himaruya.**

* * *

It was dark and loud and hard to breathe through the haze of smoke in the crowded room. England stumbled through the crowd, pushing past people and bumping straight into others as he staggered across the floor. His whole world was tilting sideways and he wondered why no one else seemed disturbed by the fact that everything was spinning.

England ended up walking right into the back of someone else. He recoiled slightly and started to fall backwards. The person in front of him turned around and then England felt a pair of strong hands grab him by the shoulders and keep him balanced. The face level to his was blurry, but when he squinted England could just about make out the details of the man holding onto him. Light skin, blue eyes, wavy shoulder length blonde hair... France.

"Let me go," England writhed around in an attempt to escape, but the hands were like vices holding him in place.

"England?" France frowned and stared into the depths of the emerald-green eyes glaring at him, "Are you drunk?"

England stuck out his tongue, "So what? You're not my mum, are you?"

France chuckled slightly, "No, that I am not."

"Then let me go!" England wrenched himself away from France and stood defiantly to face the other nation.

France held up his hands in surrender and swept his gaze down to observe England's flushed cheeks and torn clothing. England also seemed to be missing a shoe. Peculiar. France glanced to his side, where Spain was standing and watching with mild interest. Spain grinned at the amused look France gave him and shrugged his shoulders.

"How about you join us for a drink?" France offered to England.

England's eyes lit up at the sound of the word "drink" and he nodded enthusiastically. Spain handed France a drink, who England snatched it from quickly. England consumed the entire glass in one gulp and smacked his lips when he was done. France gave England a skeptical look, but he took the glass from England without a word. England did not seem happy that his alcohol was already gone.

"I thought that you had cut back on drinking?" France asked England conversationally.

England rolled his eyes dramatically, "I have!"

"Then why are you drinking tonight?" France pursued the subject with innocent curiosity.

"It's just a bit," England protested angrily, "relax!"

"You telling me to relax? You must be very drunk, no?" France chuckled in confused entertainment. Something interesting always happened when England got drunk.

"Get your nose out of my business!" England snapped. His eyes were bloodshot and droopy. His messy hair and stupefied expression were entrancing.

"Oui, oui," France conceded to appease England and dropped the subject. England was drunk, so now the most important part would be to deal with the consequences. That would be difficult to do when England was pestering Spain for more alcohol.

"Sí, ok! Just give me a moment, please!" Spain cried as England began to threaten him with violence, albeit rather weak and uncoordinated violence.

When England got his second drink he quieted down and sipped on it contentedly. France watched him, at a loss for what to do. It was looking like less and less of a task of prevention and more and more like a task of damage control. Fortunately, the night passed by uneventfully and France managed to keep England still, though only through the enticement of several more drinks. At this point it was nearly impossible for England to stand without falling over.

"I think I'm going to call it a night, amigo," Spain mumbled to France.

France nodded slightly and sighed, "I guess I'll make sure our drunk friend gets home safely."

"Take good care of him," Spain sung and winked.

France sighed and watched the Spaniard's retreating figure. The crowded room was emptying out and time was ticking away the late hours of the night. France decided he would call it a night too. He tapped England on the shoulder and nearly got a slap to the face.

"Wha'dya think you're doing?" England slurred angrily and leaned away from France.

"It's late," France informed him patiently, as he had been through this routine before, "I'm taking you home."

"I never agreed to this!" England looked scandalized.

"It's just to make sure you get home alright," France sighed, "nothing more."

England glanced at France suspiciously, but the Frenchman just smiled politely and waited. When England was done scrutinizing him, he nodded slightly and France grinned. He rested one hand on England's back and waved with the other hand to the door.

"After you," France offered politely.

England stumbled forward and immediately tripped on his one shoe. France caught him and steadied him out. Step by step, they repeated this routine and slowly made progress. That is, until England stopped and clung to France.

"I can't go back home," England hissed suddenly.

France tried to gently extricate himself from the drunk Brit and asked, "Why not?"

England shook his head furiously, "I don't want to be alone."

France furrowed his eyebrows and managed to push England back so he could look into his green eyes.

"Alone?" France echoed with concern evident in his expression.

England grabbed France by the collar and for a moment France flinched and braced himself for a sound thrashing. Instead, he found that England had pulled him closer and kissed him. It was quick, desperate, and smelled heavily of alcohol. Then England drew away and sighed. France blinked and realized just how out of it England really was.

"England?"

France heard a voice whimper in horror to their right. Still trapped in England's grasp, France awkwardly titled his head to the side to see who it was. Standing there with his eyes wide as saucers was America, and he looked... Disturbed, to say the least. France gazed into America's eyes and finally he understood. He knew that look. He had made it his life's mission to cultivate and encourage that look. He also knew when it was being shattered right before his eyes, and this was one of those cases. Now he knew.

England switched his attention to America and the two of them just stared at each other. France really wished England would let go of his collar, but England didn't. France didn't want to draw attention to himself so he stood still. The atmosphere was charged with silence, ready to burst.

"What are you doing?" America strangled out a whispered question.

France felt England's fists clench as he responded unsteadily, "Shut up, you don't care!"

"To hell I don't care!" America snapped suddenly. His eyes were clouded with pain.

"That's right, you don't! So just fuck off!" England yelled, his face completely red from alcohol and anger.

America stormed up to England and forcefully pulled him off France. England's body was like a rag doll in America's hold, but America was gentle enough. He pulled England close and forced him to look in his eyes. France debated whether or not to stop America, though there was little he could do.

"I love you," America hissed quietly, "I _love _you, so don't you ever say I don't care."

America let go of England with a shove. He looked about ready to punch something repeatedly. England staggered back and stared.

"America?"

America turned away and shrugged his shoulders. He made to leave the room, and England attempted to follow him.

"America!"

"Leave me alone," America spat as the distance between England and himself grew.

France caught England as he began to fall forward in his attempt to chase after America. England strained to escape but France held him still.

"Wait, America!" England shouted desperately.

Suddenly, England felt his head clear as the room around him dissolved. Instead, he fought his way out of the blackness and his eyes flew open. He jerked his head back and blinked at the harsh sunlight. He was sitting in a chair in front of a desk, and he felt a distinct lump on his head. He saw a couple of the other countries staring at him, including Russia, China, and France. He had fallen asleep in the middle of a meeting. It had just been a dream.

England mentally cursed himself. That had been the fourth dream this week in which he found America and himself in some sort of romantic situation. They all involved kissing, confessions, and jealousy, and they all made England feel extremely uncomfortable. He'd been having these dreams ever since he woke up on the floor of Russia's kitchen. England was thankful that America had been so drunk that he apparently did not remember any of their kiss. It was almost as if the younger nation was messing with him, putting him through all these awkward situations. Their friendship had been more than turbulent over the past couple of weeks, and England could not fathom why except for the thought that perhaps America was causing it all on purpose. But why?

There was also still the matter of America's mystery love. England had been watching America as discreetly as possible to try to figure out who it was the nation acted different around, as that would indicate who America had fallen for. So far, he had not noticed anything out of the ordinary in the way America acted with any of the other nations. Either England just had not noticed or America was really good at concealing his emotions.

"Dude, England," England flinched as he heard America's voice right behind him, "don't fall asleep during the meeting!"

England rubbed the back of his head and realized that America had probably hit him to wake him up. He also noticed that America looked slightly flustered. England paled slightly. Had he been talking in his sleep?

America returned to his seat and the meeting resumed. England just let the voices drone on and on as he imagined the overwhelming din of his dream. He closed his eyes briefly and pictured the look on America's face when he saw England kissing France. England gulped slightly and shot a look at France, who was looking at the nation speaking with a far off look in his eyes. England shivered. His dreams really were getting weird.

The meeting adjourned for lunch and England stood up to stretch out his stiff muscles. Just as he heaved a tired sigh, America bounded up to him and smiled widely.

"England! Come get lunch with me," America invited him, though it was more of a command than anything else.

England glanced up at America and wondered why America was inviting him of all people when he should be pursuing his mysterious romantic interest.

"Very well," England replied carefully.

America gave him a thumbs up and the two of them left the meeting room to find a place to eat. America suggested McDonald's, and though England scoffed at his poor dietary habits, he was secretly pleased by the suggestion because McDonald's was a guilty pleasure of his. When America "forcibly" dragged him to the fast food restaurant, England made sure to put up just the right amount of a struggle. He let America win in the end.

"So," America began conversationally as they rounded a street corner, "why were you sleeping during the meeting?"

England shrugged, "I stayed up late working last night."

"You need to stop working so much," America told him, "live a little!"

"I think I'm living quite enough already," England replied crossly. America gave him a funny look, but England ignored it.

"What were you dreaming about?" America asked suddenly.

"Excuse me?" England was taken aback by the suddenness of the question.

America looked away awkwardly, "You were kind of talking in your sleep and I thought I heard you say my name, so I was just wondering..."

America trailed off and kept his eyes off England at all costs. England's ears turned slightly pink in embarrassment and he cleared his throat purposefully.

"It was nothing," England dismissed it nonchalantly, "you were just doing something stupid is all, nothing out of the ordinary."

America laughed in relief, "Oh, ok. Just curious."

"Right, yeah," England agreed with America quickly in order to smooth over the tension in the conversation.

America nodded stiffly and pulled open the door to the infamous fast food restaurant they would be dining at. He held it open for England, which startled the British nation. America was demonstrating gentlemanly manners, and to _England _no less! Maybe he was just practicing for when having manners would come in handy... Gentlemanliness is an excellent trait to have when courting another, after all. England sighed in relief at his satisfactory theory and walked into the restaurant. America followed him close behind and the door swung closed.

"Hey England," America spoke up to pass the time as they waited in line to order, "have you ever wondered why people dream?"

England froze.

"I heard somewhere that if you dream of a person it means they were thinking about you," America told England pensively.

England could not help but wonder if America was implying something. However, with that innocent expression of curiosity on America's face, England convinced himself that America really was just wondering. It was not uncommon for America to speak tactlessly in a situation or imply something he did not mean. This was just another one of those situations. England chided himself for being overly paranoid about everything.

"That sounds like a silly theory," England collected himself and responded casually.

"I don't know," America shrugged, "it could be possible."

England shook his head, "I doubt that. It doesn't even make logical sense."

America gave England a deflated look and sighed, "Does everything have to for things to be true?"

England nodded curtly, "Of course. Everything has to make sense."

"Can't things just _happen_? Why can't something be a mystery and still be true?" America persisted unhappily.

"Because that's not how it works," England snapped back.

America fell silent and England wondered if perhaps he had said something upsetting. Then again, who was America to try to stop England from thinking like a rational person? America's childish dreaming would get him nowhere.

England huffed and took a step forward in line. There was an explanation for everything, there always was, and England was determined to find out what that explanation was.

* * *

**It was all a dream~ I based this idea off the episode in which England dreams of America wetting the bed. There is so much denial here it hurts. Maybe a certain special day will shed some light on the situation...?**


	10. How to Confess

**As promised, a very special Valentine's Day update! Happy V-Day everyone, lots of love from myself! I'll take this opportunity to once again thank every single person who's read/reviewed/followed/favorited this story, it really does mean a lot! Please enjoy the chapter, all rights to Himaruya.**

* * *

Everyone was too busy. They were bickering, debating, arguing, complaining, haggling, compromising, and getting hopelessly distracted. They were far too absorbed in their discussions to notice the head of pale white hair sticking out from under the meeting table. A pair of scarlet red eyes swept over the room, lingering for a brief moment on each individual target. Nobody suspected anything, and that was just the way he liked it.

A yellow bird fluttered down to the man and settled on his shoulder. It tweeted softly in his ear and he nodded with a smug grin. The bird flapped its small wings and flew away in a blur. The man returned his attention to his primary target. Dusty blonde hair, stubborn ahoge, sky blue eyes. America. He was looking at something, or rather someone, and the man under the table traced America's line of sight to that person. They were silent, watching the meeting progress with detachment through emerald-green eyes. England. The man narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue. Truly this was a task worthy of his expertise, and he finally understood why France had asked him to do some reconnaissance.

The meeting was dismissed, and the man hid under the table until the coast was clear. He watched his younger brother pack up his things and leave the room. When it was safe, the man emerged and came face to face with France.

"Well, Prussia, what do you think?" France asked Prussia quietly.

Prussia nodded thoughtfully, "I can see why you wanted my help now."

France glanced to the door because he felt as if someone was spying on them, "We need a plan."

"No kidding," Prussia replied smartly, "I don't see why you're so determined about this though."

France rolled his eyes, "It is my job as the Country of Love. Besides, do you even know what day it is tomorrow?"

Prussia shrugged his shoulders, "Valentine's Day?"

"Exactly!" France exclaimed passionately.

Prussia did not look as enthusiastic as France, a fact that France picked up on immediately.

"Don't pretend," France gave Prussia a stern look, "just because you are a coward does not mean you do not care."

Prussia looked alarmed by France's statement, but France just chuckled. Prussia rubbed the back of his neck and sighed heavily.

"Anyways," France waved his hand with a flourish, "we have a lot of work to do before tomorrow. I'll go talk to America, and you go talk with England about attending my Valentine's party."

"Awww why do I have to do that job?" Prussia whined.

France gave him an amused look, "Because talking to America requires giving good romantic advice, and it appears you need advice of your own."

Prussia stuck his tongue out, "Ok, ok, fine. But you owe me."

France conceded on this point and the two exchanged slight nods before going their separate ways. The mission had begun.

* * *

America was walking through the hallway, staring down at the patterned carpet and tracing the design with his eyes. France watched him from a safe distance, taking note of the distracted condition of the young nation and the nervous gestures he made. The signs were all there; America just needed that extra push in the right direction.

France exited from his hiding spot and caught up to America swiftly. He threw his arm around America's shoulder and felt the nation jump in surprise. America quickly looked sideways and saw France grinning at him.

"Dude, you scared me to death!" America accused France dramatically with a hand over his heart.

"America," France ignored the exclamation and purred, "just the person I was looking for. How are you?"

America glanced at the vice-like arm France still had draped over his shoulder and blinked, "I'm good."

France smiled mischievously, "Really?"

"Yeah," America replied suspiciously. He tried to shift away. France held him still.

"Do you know what day tomorrow is?" France continued with an air of innocence about him.

America paled slightly, "Yeah."

"I have an important question to ask you," France gave America a meaningful look.

America looked slightly alarmed. He tried to edge away and he stopped making eye contact with France. France was thoroughly enjoying making the younger nation squirm.

"Hey, France, I really appreciate it dude," America tried his best to be polite, "but I don't think I can, um, accept."

France chuckled in amusement and decided to show mercy, "Non, America, I am not asking you that sort of question."

America was visibly relieved and he sighed heavily. France gave America an offended look but America just grinned sheepishly.

"Anyways," France tried not to get distracted from the mission, "I wanted to ask you if you were planning on confessing to England anytime soon."

The smile immediately melted from America's face and his pupils dilated dramatically, consuming the sky blue in depths of petrified black. His face turned pink and he gawked at France.

"Sorry, what?" America asked, flustered and embarrassed.

France quirked an eyebrow and replied patiently, "I said, are you going to confess to England?"

"I heard you the first time!" America flinched and looked around as if they were surrounded by an intently listening crowd.

"Well?" France prompted.

America looked too stunned to speak. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times like a panicked fish, but no words came out. France grinned at the effect his words had on America. It was endearing.

"Um, no," America finally managed to squeak out, "what gave you that idea?"

France rolled his eyes. So America was going to play stupid? There was no deceiving France; he knew love when he saw it. He would not be fooled, even if America himself wanted to be.

France gave America a knowing look and shook his head, "It's obvious, of course."

"No it isn't!" America protested stubbornly.

"Yes, it is," France countered simply, "everyone can see it."

America looked terrified. Then his eyes clouded over, and his mouth titled down into a frown. France noted the melancholy. He would have to fix that too.

"Clearly not everyone," America muttered bitterly.

France nodded in understanding and patted America's shoulder, "Oui, our British friend is... difficult, to say the least."

America nodded sadly but his eyes sparkled with outrage, "I don't get him! It's like any time I try to do something he snaps!"

"That is just the way he is," France consoled America tactfully, "it does not mean he hates you."

"It sure feels like it sometimes," America sighed dejectedly. The last few weeks had been rough on him. It was one incident after the other. He was beginning to lose hope.

"You just need to be clear," France instructed America wisely, "let him know how you really feel. I'm sure he'll feel the same."

"But what if he doesn't?" America expressed the debilitating paranoia chewing at his resolve.

France gave America a stern look, "Promise me you will do something tomorrow. Talk to him."

"But-"

"Promise me," France demanded.

"Ok, ok, I promise," America whimpered in nervous anticipation.

"Good," France finally released America, "I'll see you tomorrow at my party then! Good luck!"

With a wave and a wink, France left America alone, paralyzed from fear due to the looming task ahead of him. America took a deep breath. Be clear. That was all he had to do. Just be clear.

* * *

England was heading down the hallway when he heard voices up ahead. He slowed down his pace and strained to listen. As he approached a turn, he paused. He recognized that accent anywhere: annoying, mischievous, and distinctly French. But who was France talking to?

England's old espionage training kicked in and he crept silently up to the wall. He pressed his back against it and snuck a peak. There was France, and his arm was draped over the shoulder of... America? England narrowed his eyes suspiciously. What were they talking about?

"Do you know what day tomorrow is?" England heard France ask casually. He stared at America, who looked flushed.

England noticed that America sounded definitively nervous when he responded, "Yeah."

"I have an important question to ask you," France said suggestively.

England's eyes widened and he wondered: was this the person America had a crush on? Was France asking America out for Valentine's Day? England was shocked. Whoever it was that he suspected America of liking, it certainly wasn't France. He also couldn't shake that burning sensation in the pit of his stomach that crawled into his mind and caused him to glare angrily at France as well.

England kept quiet, wanting to hear America's response, but in his curiosity England did not notice a certain Prussian man walking up to him. Prussia had been looking for England everywhere, so when he finally found him, Prussia hurried over and tapped England on the shoulder. He was not expecting England to jump so high.

"Easy!" Prussia laughed in amusement, blissfully unaware of the conversation going on just around the corner.

"Ah," England recovered and tried to mentally will Prussia to leave so he could continue eavesdropping, "hello, Prussia. Can I, uh, help you?"

"Francey-pants asked me to ask you if you were going to his party tomorrow," Prussia replied boredly.

England shook his head, "No, I wasn't."

Prussia raised an eyebrow, "He told me not to take no for an answer."

"Well that's a pity," England snapped tersely, "but I'm afraid he has no right to say."

Prussia rolled his eyes and shifted on his feet. Just then, he glanced around the corner and saw France with America. He looked at England and remembered how England had been very spooked when Prussia had greeted him. Prussia grinned wickedly. He could work with this.

"Listen," Prussia lowered his voice and winked at England, "I know you don't want to go for all that romantic crap, that's fine by me. But get this; I think France and America are going together, like a thing. You at least have to come and see for yourself. It's France and America, after all."

England quirked an eyebrow, but on the inside he began to squirm. So it was true... But why? Why France? Of all the people, it had to be France! England felt his fingers curl into a clenched fist. Why?

"Fine," England hissed, "I have to admit, it would be rather interesting to see."

Prussia mentally patted himself on the back. He snorted; and France said he had no tact. He gave England a thumbs up.

"You bet," Prussia snickered.

With that, he waved goodbye to England and left the British nation to continue his spying in peace. England frowned when Prussia was finally gone. He looked around the corner and saw that America and France had disappeared too. Alone again... England swore under his breath. He told himself he would go to the party just to see. He wouldn't interfere, no matter how he felt.

* * *

The next day in the early evening, England arrived at France's manor. It was decorated with gaudy pink hearts and crimson red roses. England sighed and knocked on the door. After a brief wait, the door swung open and France stood there. He grinned when he saw England and ushered him inside.

"I didn't think you would come," France commented off-handedly, leading England through the main hall towards the living room. England heard soft music drifting through the house, which was decorated just as overwhelmingly as the outside.

England shrugged, trying to come off as uncaring. France was about to speak when they both heard another loud knock at the door. France looked over his shoulder quickly.

"Everyone else is just down the hall," France told England quickly, "make yourself at home."

"No thanks," England muttered under his breath as France dashed away.

England strolled down the remainder of the hallway, glancing at all the delicate artwork that adorned the walls. He recognized several as interpretations of historical events and wondered why, of all the paintings in the world, France had decided to keep those.

When England arrived in the living room, several nations glanced up and waved, so he nodded politely back. One nation in particular approached him and slapped him on the back. It was Prussia, and he had a glass of beer in his free hand.

"Ready for a bit of observation?" Prussia whispered suggestively.

England shrugged Prussia off and gave him a reprimanding look, "It's not spying, I'm merely curious is all."

Prussia laughed loudly, "Whatever you say."

It was then that England noticed France returning, with his arm once again draped over the side of America, who was looking around enthusiastically and smiling like a child. England stared.

"Look at that," Prussia whispered and nudged England in the rib while England attempted to swat Prussia away.

England tried not to notice too much. He looked away, only to see Spain bounded over excitedly to the two of them. Prussia noticed too and grinned evilly.

"Hola amigos!" Spain greeted them happily, "Did you see France and America together?"

Prussia hummed and England just frowned. Was everyone intent on rubbing it in his face like this?

"Yep," Prussia snickered, "poor America."

Spain shoved Prussia playfully and joined in laughing. England stood there and tried to push down the burning sensation again. He tuned out the two rough housing nations and watched France lead America into the living room. America mumbled something to him and France nodded. England really wished he knew what they were talking about, but he was too far away and the music drowned out the rest of the conversation.

"What are you staring at?"

England jumped and quickly turned around to see Russia standing behind him. Russia was smiling innocently and watching America and France as well.

"Nothing," England lied quickly.

Russia tilted his head and asked in mild confusion, "It looked like you were staring at America?"

"Definitely not!" England protested stubbornly.

"America and France are together?" Russia moved on, blissfully ignorant of England's sour expression.

"It seems everyone has noticed by now," England muttered.

Russia nodded, "I thought you were together after I found you on my kitchen floor. I guess not, though."

"Yes," England hissed, "obviously."

Russia wandered off and found the Baltic Trio hanging out in a corner. England sighed heavily when he was finally alone. He needed a drink...

* * *

It was dark and loud and hard to breathe through the haze of smoke in the crowded room. England stumbled through the crowd, pushing past people and bumping straight into others as he staggered across the floor. His whole world was tilting sideways and he wondered why no one else seemed disturbed by the fact that everything was spinning.

England ended up walking right into the back of someone else. He recoiled slightly and started to fall backwards. The person in front of him turned around and then England felt a pair of strong hands grab him by the shoulders and keep him balanced. The face level to his was blurry, but when he squinted England could just about make out the details of the man holding onto him. Light skin, blue eyes, wavy shoulder length blonde hair... France.

England widened his eyes and his heart rate picked up. He knew this scene, he knew it, and if his previous experience was anything to go by he needed to get out of here before things got worse.

"Are you alright, England?" France asked in concern.

England pushed him away and shook his head, "I need some air."

England stumbled through the crowd again and found the doors to the garden. He pushed them open and gasped for air. The night was cool and crisp, and the sky above was clear. It twinkled with distant stars and England wandered down the winding floral path towards the open field of grass at the top of a small hill. His legs were shaky and he was off-balance, but England kept going until he reached the top, where he collapsed onto the ground. He laid on his back and stared up at the vast expanse of the night sky. He took another deep breath as his head cleared. Why did he ever agree to come to this party?

"England!"

England opened one eye and saw the familiar figure and smiling face of his long time companion, Flying Mint Bunny. England smiled as Flying Mint Bunny flew around his head with wings outstretched.

"Flying Mint Bunny! What are you doing here?" England was pleasantly surprised by the sudden visit of his friend.

"We came to keep you company!" Flying Mint Bunny cheered.

"We?" England questioned and looked around.

Sure enough, Yuni was trotting up the slope towards him, her white coat shining in the moonlight. She stopped next to England and whinnied slightly in greeting. England lifted a hand to pet her nose and Yuni flicked her tail happily. Flying Mint Bunny settled on top of Yuni's head.

"That's rather kind of you two," England praised them indulgently.

Yuni nickered, soaking in the praise, when suddenly she heard the grass rustling. She lifted her head and stared to the side, ready to bolt. England noticed and tried to calm her down.

"Easy Yuni," England mumbled soothingly, "easy."

He looked in the direction Yuni was watching and saw a figure approaching. The hair, the glasses, the clothes, and the gait told England all he needed to know.

"Calm down Yuni," England whispered, "it's just America."

Why it was America was the question really nagging at England. Was it not enough for the idiot to be with France? He had to exacerbate England's patience as well!

"England!"

England opted to pretend not to hear America. He stared up at the sky, Yuni and Flying Mint Bunny silent by his side. Only when he could hear and feel the footsteps right behind him did he glance over his shoulder to see America looking down at him with a nervous smile.

"I wondered where you went," America told England casually as he crouched down to take a seat beside him.

"I just wanted some fresh air," England replied distantly. Why was America talking to him now? Why?

America nodded. He lay next to England and stretched his legs out in front of him. His glasses, Texas, reflected the moonlight and made it impossible to see the sky blue eyes behind them.

"Enjoying the party?" England attempted a conversation to fill the silence.

"Yeah, yeah," America replied somewhat uncomfortably, "I'm surprised you came."

"I've been hearing that from a lot of people," England commented dryly.

America chuckled, "Sorry, but it's true!"

England just rolled his eyes. America shoved England in the shoulder gently.

"Hey," America said, "it's not a bad thing. I'm glad you came."

England glanced sharply at America, "Oh?"

America nodded, "Yeah."

"I would have thought you would have been busy enough with France," England commented, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

America looked at him in confusion, "Huh?"

"Seeing as how you're, uh, together now and everything," England swallowed at the awkward nature of his words.

America looked shocked, "Huh?"

England gave America a weird look and America quickly shook his head like an overly aggressive dog with a new chew toy.

"France and I are not together," America told England, "Definitely not."

"You aren't?" England was surprised, and the burning sensation in his stomach instantly settled down and disappeared.

"No way!" America exclaimed.

England laughed out loud from pure relief, "Bloody hell!"

America laughed too and rubbed the back of his head, "I blame France for being so touchy-feely."

England elbowed America in the side, "Don't scare me like that again, git."

"I scared you?" America sounded genuinely concerned and England immediately regretted saying those words.

"Maybe," England muttered uncomfortably.

The two fell into silence. Through the course of the conversation, England had forgotten that Yuni and Flying Mint Bunny were still there, watching and listening. The two magical creatures exchanged glances. The tension between England and America was almost palpable, and they knew that with one little push, perhaps they could fix that. So, they whispered together and formulated a plan. Flying Mint Bunny flapped off Yuni's head and hovered behind England, while Yuni walked around the two nations and positioned herself behind America. The magical creatures made eye contact and nodded ever so slightly. England noticed too late.

"Yuni? What are you-"

America was about to turn around and look, but Flying Mint Bunny and Yuni put their plan into action. Flying Mint Bunny rammed into England and Yuni pushed America forward with her head. The two nations were caught completely off guard and completely off-balance. They both fell forward, right into each other, and their lips touched. Atop the small hill on a blanket of cool grass under the glowing sphere of the moon, England and America sat there, leaning into each other, both kissing, both too astonished to pull away, and both completely sober.

America was the first to react. He pulled away from England and gasped. England just sat there, still leaning forward, just staring at America. America looked terrified beyond comparison.

"What the- Um- Listen, I didn't mean to- Something must have- I-"

America spluttered for words while England continued to stare at him. America's face was completely red. England did not know why he felt so calm inside.

"It was Yuni and Flying Mint Bunny," England said plainly, "they pushed us."

"Right, yeah," America agreed and tried to keep himself from panicking, "I'm so sorry, dude, I swear I didn't mean to-"

"It's quite alright," England interrupted him, still in shock.

"Oh, ok," America felt like his heart my burst out of his chest, "right."

England tried to sort out his scattered thoughts. This was the second time he had kissed America. He had to wonder why it kept happening, and why after each kiss England seemed less horrified and more... Pleased? He could not explain why. Instead of panicking he felt calm, instead of relieved to pull away he felt disappointed, instead of embarrassed he felt frustrated. Everything he was sure he should feel he did not, and everything he never expected he would feel he did. Was that normal?

"Listen," America gulped and pushed himself to his feet, "I should get back to the party. I'm so sorry again, dude, I never meant to, I swear!"

"Entirely accidental," England dismissed America's apology, though the words rolling off his lips did not line up with the words swirling around his heart.

"Right, yeah, an accident," America tried to chuckle but it came off as distinctly forced, "anyways... I'll see you around England."

With that, America retreated. Yuni and Flying Mint Bunny exchanged glances full of a mixture of amusement and disappointment. England just sat there, staring at the spot America had been sitting in moments before, and finally he spoke again.

"Fuck," England swore to himself.

He knew what it was. He could explain the curiosity, the burning sensation, the strange emotions. He could explain it all now, and he had no excuses anymore. He was in love with America.

"Have you ever wondered," England whispered to Yuni and Flying Mint Bunny, "how you go about confessing to someone?"

* * *

**Fair question England, very fair question... At least you're figuring things out, hm? Anyways, tune in next time and see how these two idiots figure things out! Love you all (insert lessthanthree here)!**


	11. What People Look For in Others

**Ah Valentine's Day, you created quite a stir... Someone's gotta fix it, perhaps a new recruit to France's cause? All rights to Himaruya.**

* * *

"Well, what do you see?" A hushed voice whispered urgently.

"Let me look!" A second voice chimed in excitedly.

"Stop pushing, I'm trying to watch!" The third voice snapped impatiently.

The first voice hissed unhappily, "But I wanna watch too! What's happening?"

"If you would stop pushing me, I could tell you!" The third growled.

The first relented, "Ok, ok, jeez!"

"So? What does it look like?" The second prompted again once the fighting had died down.

Prussia, Spain, and France were crowded against a small glass window that looked out into France's garden. It was dark, but they could still make out the shape of two figures sitting together at the top of a grassy hill. France held up a pair of binoculars, and Prussia and Spain crowded around him to try and see as well. Spain was grinning excitedly, and Prussia could not seem to stand still. France watched intently and mumbled a quiet narration of events.

"They're talking," France told them, "come on, America... Less talking, more action. Come on..."

"He better not chicken out," Prussia grumbled unhappily, "especially after all the work we did!"

"Oui... Wait!" France gasped, "They're kissing!"

"What?" Spain and Prussia jumped simultaneously in surprise, jostling France for use of the binoculars. France fended them off bravely with one hand and continued to watch with the other.

"Oh, they pulled away! Prussia, stop! What is America doing? He's leaving? Non! America, now is your chance!" France hissed in outrage.

The two figures on the hill separated and one was left alone, and that lone figure just sat there staring. France clutched the binoculars in outrage. The fool! Clearly, intervention from the Country of Love had not been enough. They would have to request backup from the one person that really knew America. The one who was always watching.

"Come on," France addressed Prussia and Spain, "we're going to need his help."

Prussia gulped, "What?"

France nodded, "Do not be a coward! He's the only one that can help now."

Spain questioned apprehensively, "Are you sure?"

France grinned devilishly, "Of course."

The one who was always watching would have the answers; you just had to ask him. And that was always the hardest part.

* * *

The room was empty, muffled music from the rest of the house playing quietly through the walls. France, Prussia, and Spain opened the door and walked in gingerly. It was unsettling. They felt like someone was watching them. France stepped forward slightly and called out softly in the empty room.

"Bonjour? Are you here?"

The room fell back into muffled silence. Prussia opened his mouth to say something, but France shot him a silencing glare and held a finger up to his lips. Then they heard it.

"Hello," A timid voice spoke up, hushed but clearly audible.

From the corner of the room, the figure of a person appeared out of thin air. It was a figure that looked a lot like America, but there was no mistaking the different tone of voice, the fly-away curl, or the violet eyes. He considered his three visitors with his head tilted slightly to one side.

"Can I help you?" He asked politely.

France nodded, "Oui, there is something."

Behind France, Spain leaned over to Prussia and whispered behind one of his hands, "Who is that?"

Prussia gave Spain a sharp glared and hissed back, "That's Canada, obviously!"

Spain leaned away with a surprised look on his face, and Prussia just shook his head and looked away. France grimaced but ignored the two of them.

Canada's eyes lit up unexpectedly, "Oh? What can I help you with?"

France smiled too, "It's about your brother, actually."

Canada narrowed his eyes. He glanced at Spain, then at Prussia, and finally he looked back at France. Prussia shifted uncomfortably.

"This is about your plan to hook him up with England?" Canada finally asked.

Spain's eyes widened and he whispered again, "How did he know about that?"

Canada heard him but decided not to comment. It was true that people often forgot he was there, that they didn't see him, but that never changed the fact that he was indeed there. He was always observing, taking note of what was going on around him, and remembering it for later. He took pride in that fact.

"I can help," Canada nodded, "you definitely need it. Especially after what just happened."

"How does he know about that too?!" Spain hissed urgently.

France hastily clasped a hand over Spain's mouth to stop him from speaking. While Spain struggled for freedom, Prussia laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head.

"Thanks, Birdie!" Prussia gave a thumbs up and quickly marshaled France and Spain out of the room. Canada smiled slightly and waved them goodbye.

* * *

Canada prodded America in the side during the next meeting. America jumped slightly and looked to his side. Canada was staring intently at him. America gave him a funny look and tried to return to the meeting conversation. Canada poked him again. America jumped again.

"America," Canada whispered.

America parted his lips ever so slightly and replied, "What?"

"I need to talk to you," Canada breathed back.

"Can we do this later, bro?" America asked desperately, "England is staring suspiciously at me."

Canada shook his head stubbornly, "It's about England."

Canada noted the vague shade of red that colored America's face and smiled slightly.

"What?" America hissed.

Canada threw all caution to the wind as he questioned, "How was the kiss?"

"_What_?"

America fell out of his chair and landed with a loud thump on the floor. Canada covered his mouth with one hand to muffle his laughter as a rather flustered looking America stumbled back onto his feet and sat back down. Everyone in the meeting was staring at America, and Canada gave thanks for once that he was practically invisible to others.

"Do you have anything you want to say, America?" China folded his arms and glared at the young nation, upset at having been interrupted.

America shook his head furiously, "No, no, nothing to say!"

China rolled his eyes and everyone drew their attention back to the meeting conversation as China continued to drone on. America shot Canada an outraged glare but Canada just shrugged innocently.

"Not cool, bro," America hissed under his breath.

"So, how was it?" Canada ignored America's hostility and pursued the most important question.

America slid down in his chair and groaned quietly, "Can we not talk about this?"

Canada grinned, "We most definitely _will_ talk about this."

Just then, China called America's name, causing both nations to jolt in surprise. China asked America a question regarding finances, and America obliged to answer, secretly grateful for a means of escape from the embarrassing conversation with his brother. Canada shrugged and watched his brother intently. He could wait.

And wait he did, for once the meeting was concluded and America stood up to leave, Canada shadowed him and caught him by the back of his shirt when America was halfway down the hallway. America stopped walking and turned around to find the source of the pulling. Canada smiled innocently as America paled.

"So?" Canada prompted suggestively as a few other nations walked past them.

"So what?" America chuckled nervously.

Canada rolled his eyes, "You still need to tell me how the kiss was."

"How did you even see that?" America sounded incredibly intimidated by the fact that his brother may or may not be some sort of ultimate ninja.

"I just did," Canada dismissed the side tracking question bluntly, "now tell me how it went."

America blushed and grumbled as he looked away, "It was just an accident."

"An accident, eh?" Canada sounded extremely skeptical. He did not buy the explanation for one second.

America folded his arms and pouted, "It was! I was just sitting there, and then it felt like something pushed me and then... That happened."

"Convenient accident," Canada quirked an eyebrow but America only stuck out his tongue.

"I can't believe you were spying on me," America huffed unhappily.

"I wasn't the only one," Canada told him, "you should have seen France, he couldn't believe you actually _ran away_."

"Is my life a T.V show now or something?!" America whined incredulously.

"Oh, please," Canada replied crossly, "you need us watching or you'll just go and mess everything up."

"I will not!" America defied stubbornly.

Canada opened his mouth to reply, when he noticed a figure walking down the hallway. It was England, and he was looking at America as if he meant to talk to him. Sensing the opportunity, Canada relented for the moment.

"We aren't done talking about this, you hoser," Canada whispered in America's ear before drifting off.

"What's wrong, America, you look like you were talking to a ghost!" England exclaimed as he came to a stop in front of a rather astonished American.

America gulped and looked around quickly, but he could not spot Canada anywhere, or France for that matter. England tapped his foot expectantly so America shook it off and laughed.

"No, dude, I would never talk to a ghost!"

"If you insist," England shrugged, "anyways, I actually wanted to talk to you about-"

"Wait, I have a question for you first!" America interrupted England quickly.

England looked irritated and he wanted to tell America to wait, but America gave him a desperate look so England sighed. He supposed it could wait until later...

"Have you ever wondered what people look for in others?" America asked.

England was astonished and his mind blanked, "Excuse me?"

"Like, in relationships and stuff!" America elaborated with a wild gesture.

"No, I understand that much," England shook his head and tried to keep his wild heartbeat under control, "why do you want to know?"

"Oh," America frowned, "I was talking with my bro about stuff, and now I need some way to get back at him."

"And this is your brilliant plan?" England asked doubtfully.

"Well, yeah, and no," America explained unhelpfully, "I have a suspicion about something and I was just wondering if it made sense."

England rolled his eyes, "That makes absolutely no sense."

"Just answer the question," America urged him desperately.

England sighed but he did think about the question. What did people look for in others? He supposed it was different for everyone, but for himself, he preferred a person who could make him comfortable. Someone that would love him despite his flaws. Someone that could make him happy, even when he was surrounded by complete idiots. England felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he imagined the goofy smile of America and his stomach flipped. Was America really that person to him?

"England?" America prompted.

England startled slightly and pulled himself out of his thoughts. America was staring at him and it made him feel extremely uncomfortable. What if America had read his mind? No, he was being ridiculous. England composed himself.

"I suppose... Someone who wasn't a complete idiot, and someone you wouldn't constantly fight with," England said out loud. How could he ever tell America what he really thought about the question?

England noticed the expression on America's face fall, "Ok, I get it."

England felt his heart drop. No, America did not get it at all, but only because England had lied to him. Was it really that hard to be honest?

"Thanks, England," America smiled, but it seemed kind of forced in comparison to the radiant smile that England treasured in his memories.

"You're quite welcome," England replied automatically.

"Oh, you had something you wanted to talk to me about?" America perked up and titled his head slightly.

England paled and felt his pulse quicken again. There was no way he could bring it up, not now! He panicked.

"Yes," England huffed, "try to actually pay attention in the meeting next time!"

America blinked, "Ok."

England bit the inside of his cheek and nodded stiffly, "Good."

Silence fell between them.

"Well," America announced suddenly, "I gotta go. See ya England!"

With that, America dashed off, leaving England to feel like he wanted to slam his head against a wall. He scowled. It was all America's fault, him and his stupid, unnerving questions.

* * *

**Canada is always watching... O.o France is probably going to have to recruit the entire world at this rate! Thank you for reading!**


	12. Why People Get Jealous

**Apologies for taking so long, I got lazy... It happens... But the world shall end before I let that get in the way of writing, so I have yet another chapter for you all to enjoy! All rights to Himaruya!**

* * *

America woke up to the usual beeping of his alarm clock and tried in vain to turn it off. In his half-conscious state, though, he misjudged the force he was using and ended up crushing said alarm clock. The sound of crunching plastic really woke America up and he threw off the blankets to get out of bed. The sun was already up by the time America shuffled into the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee. He always had a cup in the morning to get a little extra energy, though Canada always insisted he didn't need it. America always scoffed at the idea of cutting back on coffee. Thinking about it, America realized his supply of coffee was running low, so he added it to the list of things he needed to buy, along with a new alarm clock.

A knock on the door interrupted America's usual morning routine. He hurried to the door and pulled it open to reveal the figure of his brother Canada with his polar bear, Kumajiro, between his arms. Canada smiled sweetly when he saw America.

"Mind if I come in?" Canada asked politely.

America nodded and let Canada in. He closed the door behind his brother and offered him something to drink. Canada politely declined and dropped Kumajiro to the floor. The polar bear looked around lazily and shuffled away. This seemed to be a usual occurrence, because America paid the polar bear no mind.

"What's up bro?" America asked with a nervous look in his eye. He had not forgotten what Canada had said to him the last time they had talked.

Canada looked America up and down and replied mysteriously, "You should get dressed."

"Aww come on," America whined, not wanting to get out of his pajamas, "I don't need to do that!"

Canada gave America a stern glare, "Just do it."

America protested loudly, but he still obeyed Canada's command. Once he was properly dressed, he rejoined Canada, who was lounging on the couch. America crossed his arms and huffed.

"Happy now?"

Canada looked up and saw America glaring at him. He gave America a thumbs up, "Yep."

"What are you doing here?" America asked grumpily.

"I invited England over for the day," Canada grinned mischievously.

America's face paled slightly, "You did what?"

"Well, technically you invited England over," Canada ignored America's terrified look and corrected himself calmly.

"_What_?" America sounded more distressed with each passing minute.

"I can pass off as a _very_ convincing America," Canada winked, but then he stuck out his tongue, "you totally owe me though, Cuba chased me for _miles_ before I could finally ditch him. Not cool."

"I do _not_ owe you!" America exclaimed, "What the hell bro?"

Canada rolled his eyes, "A simple 'thanks' would be enough."

America stared, dumbfounded, at his northern brother who had pretended to be him. What if he had acted weird? Or if he said something to England that pissed the Brit off?

"Don't give me that look," Canada snapped impatiently, "nothing bad happened. If anything, England looked happy about it!"

America froze, "He looked happy?"

"Yeah," Canada snickered, "maybe he's just as interested as you, eh? It was certainly quite a kiss you guys shared..."

"Stop!" America covered his ears with his hands and his face turned bright red.

Canada basked in the glory of tormenting America, but he did not feel guilty because he was still helping in the end. He just could not resist poking fun at America. Not many opportunities as good as this one presented themselves, and Canada would be a fool not to take advantage of it.

Canada glanced at the clock on the wall and spoke up so America would hear him, "England should be here in five minutes."

America choked slightly, "This is so not cool! What am I supposed to do!?"

Canada sighed, "Calm down."

America gave Canada a shocked look, "Calm down!? How am I supposed to calm down!?"

"Take a deep breath," Canada advised, "I have a plan."

America looked desperately at his brother, "What plan?"

"Just take him out for a casual day," Canada shrugged, "go to Anacostia Park or something... Just make sure it isn't President's Park or Lafayette Square especially, England probably wouldn't appreciate that."

America ignored the jibe at the American Revolution and his eyes lit up, "Great idea!"

Canada smiled self-satisfactorily, "Of course."

"Thanks, bro!" America tackled Canada in a quick hug that left Canada gasping for air.

Canada relaxed on the couch and promised to look after things while America was gone. America paced around nervously and continued to glance at the clock as the minutes ticked by as slow as pouring molasses. Eventually, there was a knock on the door and America froze in place. Canada had to resort to getting up and pushing his brother to get him to move again. America dashed to the door and yanked it open.

England was standing there and he smiled slightly when he saw America. America felt his breath catch in his chest for a moment, but he quickly recovered himself by tackling England in a hug. England fended him off bravely and chided him, but America did not listen. He was grinning like an idiot as he marched England outside and onwards towards their day together.

Canada watched them go and noticed Kumajiro staring as well.

"They're hopeless, aren't they?" Canada said to Kumajiro.

Kumajiro gave him a funny look and meandered away. Canada chuckled to himself and hummed. All in a days work.

* * *

"Why is everything so far away?" England complained as America led him down countless busy streets. They had been walking for what felt like forever, and even though England felt like his legs might give out soon, America was still smiling that radiant, idiotic smile and marching on through the sea of people.

"Almost there," America assured him patiently.

Everyone England passed by kept their heads down and their feet moving. They were staring at phones or talking to someone else, but they certainly did not pay attention to him. He was invisible to them. To America, though, England was not invisible, and somehow that was making England nervous. It did not help that America kept smiling at him like that.

England had to admit, it was a bit odd when America approached him the other day and invited him to visit. It was much more bold than America had been acting like recently, not that England minded. In fact, it was rather endearing... But nonetheless suspicious.

"Where are we even going?" England asked impatiently.

"You'll see," America sang happily.

England had to intervene seven times during their trip because America kept getting distracted. There was so much he wanted to see, so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to share with England, that he just couldn't contain himself. Usually England would chide America for being excessively hyperactive, but after recent events he was perfectly content to allow America to let off some steam. Perhaps it would bring down some of the awkward barriers between them.

While they were walking, America pleaded with England to let him stop to buy some ice cream. England shrugged, not really caring what they did, and followed America. They were waiting in line when the two of them spotted a man and a woman making a scene outside. The woman looked baffled as the man yelled at her.

"What are you doing with him!?" The man pointed an accusatory finger at a third man, who was presumably the woman's date.

"Why do you care," The woman scoffed, "you said you were ok with it!"

"I didn't really mean it!" He exclaimed in frustration, "I thought you wouldn't be a completely oblivious idiot!"

"And I thought you wouldn't be an emotionally inept and inexpressive moron!" The woman snapped back.

The owner of the store shooed them away before they could make much more of a commotion, though the customers were already shaken up enough as it was. England looked away, only to find America staring blankly at the spot where the arguing people had been standing.

"America? Are you alright?" England asked gently, waving a hand in front of America's face.

America blinked in shock and his eyes focused on England. His eyes wandered over England's face as if he was searching for something he could not find, like a lost treasure. He looked sad.

"America?" England prompted again.

"Have you ever wondered," America mumbled, "why people get jealous?"

England quirked an eyebrow, "Possessiveness?"

"I mean like them," America shook his head and pointed to the spot where the people had been arguing.

"Well obviously that woman was ignorant to how the man felt," England replied quickly.

"Or maybe he wasn't being clear about it," America countered.

"Maybe she should be more perceptive," England retorted.

America pouted, "But it would be so much easier if he was just straightforward with everything."

"Maybe that's not the kind of person he is," England folded his arms defensively.

"And maybe she's just not the perceptive type," America also crossed his arms over his chest.

England squirmed and wondered why he took sides with the man so quickly; he could relate, England realized bitterly. America, meanwhile, realized the same; he could relate to the woman's position. England glanced quickly at America. America glanced quickly at him. They both looked away uncomfortably.

The subject dropped from their conversation and they pretended it never happened. But for the rest of the day, America and England were haunted by the image of the fighting man and woman. The more they thought about it, the more the couple morphed into the two of them...

* * *

**Honestly I think meddling with America and England is pretty entertaining for the countries xD The return of sneaky Canada! (And yes, I have actually made a couple extremely vague PruCan references in this, just for fun!) If you didn't know, President's Park is located in Washington D.C. and encompasses Lafayette Square, a memorial of sorts to the American Revolution. Anacostia Park is a giant park in D.C. as well.**


	13. How Plants Feel

**Happy March everyone! A new month full of a certain two hopelessly clueless nations! All rights to Himaruya.**

* * *

England and America finally made it to the park, and thanks to the ice cream America had bought he was in a much better mood. He happily strolled along and licked at the remainder of the ice cream cone while England shot him several sidelong glances that went unnoticed. The way America's tongue rolled over the ice cream and the little smile that spread across his face each time he licked his lips... Well, England was starting to feel very jealous of the ice cream cone.

"Come on," America suddenly grabbed England's hand with his own free one.

England felt his pulse quicken but he tried to keep his voice even when he asked, "Where are we going?"

America grinned when England didn't try to pull away his hand and replied mysteriously as he waggled his eyebrows, "My favorite spot."

"Should I be worried?" England asked suspiciously.

America winked, "Of course not!"

"So that's a yes," England muttered, causing America to laugh loudly. Still, England allowed America to drag him through the park and tried to ignore all the funny glances people kept giving the two of them.

The walking path they were on eventually led down towards the bank of the river, and America guided him on a walkway parallel to the flowing water. Eventually America stopped and stared at the bank of the river. England followed America's gaze and spotted a figure nestled in the snags of fallen branches and trees stuck on the bank. England took note of the sleek, dark brown plumage, white head, and sharp, bright yellow beak and feet. It was a bald eagle. The eagle turned its head and looked at both England and America, it's beady eyes unreadable. It spread its massive wings, and over the gasps of fascinated children watching, it took off from its position atop the snag and soared lazily over to America, where it perched on his shoulder. America smiled dreamily and patted the eagle on the head. It stared at England for a long moment, and then it took off again, gliding across the water and vanishing from sight. England heard America exhale deeply and America's grip on England's hand loosened slightly.

"My favorite spot," America closed his eyes and mumbled quietly.

England nodded and watched the water flow by. He was glad he was with America in that moment, he truly was, but the piercing eyes of the bald eagle had unsettled him. It was as if it had been trying to send England a message, or perhaps a warning. A warning that it was keeping an eye on him.

"It's beautiful," England finally commented after a long silence filled only with the sound of rushing water lapping against the banks and children shouting gleefully.

America opened his eyes and glanced at England, "You think so?"

England nodded stiffly. "It" could refer to several things though: the river, the park, the bald eagle, or maybe that damned smile of America's...

"Hey, England," America spoke up suddenly, "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

"What would that be?" England asked curiously. He furiously stamped out the daydream in his head that America was meaning to confess to him. No, that wasn't possible, not in the slightest.

"Um, well," America rubbed the back of his neck and grinned sheepishly. He opened his mouth, then he closed it. He opened it again, but no words came out.

England shifted positions on his feet and prompted, "Well?"

"Thanks," America spluttered out quickly, "for coming, I mean. I'm glad you did."

"I'm glad I did as well," England cleared his throat and smiled faintly. America's eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm glad you're glad," America bit his lower lip, "it makes me... Glad."

England felt his stomach churn slightly with nerves but he rolled his eyes anyways, "Very eloquent."

America chuckled, "You know it!"

Now it was England's turn to try and say something. He took a deep breath, "Anyways, there's something I wanted to talk to you about too."

"Oh, really?" America perked up and looked at England.

England glanced up into America's eyes and his fragile resolve shattered immediately. He gulped and tried to think of something else to say.

"Well," England looked away uncomfortably, "thanks. For inviting me, I mean."

America blinked, still internally debating whether or not to be mad at Canada for impersonating him, "No problem, dude!"

"We don't do it enough," England mumbled.

America tilted his head slightly, "You wanna hang out more?"

England flushed, "Just to keep up with each other! It'd probably be good for foreign relations and such!"

"Yeah, no, I get it," America agreed flatly, "Well... You wanna stay at my place for a bit then?"

England counted to three in his head so he didn't sound like he was replying too quickly when he agreed, "Sure, I suppose."

America winked, "It'll be awesome!"

England laughed amusedly, "Of course it will."

"You'll see," America sung smugly.

"Will I?" England quirked an eyebrow.

"It'll be a visit you'll never forget," America grinned wickedly before grabbing England's hand suddenly and dragging him down the path and away from the river.

England once again allowed himself to be led around by America as they made their way down the scenic pathway. America was chatting happily again and pointing out various sights to England, who nodded good-naturedly and took the time to think about everything. He was slightly nervous about staying with America. He had done so plenty of times before, just never under these conditions, with his new... Feelings... He shivered slightly at the thought.

By the time the late afternoon had come around, America suggested they start heading back. He led England across a wide open field of grass. Only after a little while did England notice that America had stopped talking. He was staring distractedly down at the grass and frowning, his pace slowing down more and more with each second. England nudged him to get his attention, and America's head snapped up.

"Something bothering you?" England asked politely.

America shook his head and glanced back down at the grass, "I was just thinking... Have you ever wondered if plants have feelings?"

England furrowed his eyebrows and looked at America, expecting him to start laughing.

"I'm sorry?" England questioned when America still looked serious.

"Like, just think about it. What if plants can feel stuff, so when we walk on them it hurts. What if that was true?" America pondered.

England laughed in amusement, "You're joking, right?"

"I'm serious, dude!" America protested, "What if plants have feelings!"

To demonstrate his point, America let out a dramatic roar and began to stomp around on the grass like Godzilla. England watched him, torn between laughing or chiding America. In the end, he smiled despite himself.

"I think," England emphasized, "you should be more concerned with how _people_ feel."

America stuck out his tongue, "People are too confusing!"

England plucked a blade of grass from the ground and twirled it in his fingers, "And somehow emotional plants aren't?"

"England!" America gasped and grabbed England's hand to touch the blade of grass and save it, "How could you!"

America snatched the blade of grass easily, but England froze when America's hand remained intertwined with his. America didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he was very good at disguising it.

"Either way," England spoke up, more subdued this time, "you really should pay attention to how others feel. You could be missing something if you don't bother to pay attention."

"I try to," America protested, "but it's hard, ok!"

America finally let go of England's hand, and England sighed in relief. He glanced down at his spread out fingers and could almost still feel America's grip against his skin. His pace slowed down until he was trailing behind America. He watched the young nation's back and smiled bitterly.

"Clearly," He mumbled to himself, wondering how he ever got himself into this situation.

* * *

**Wonderful, seductive ice cream... Hehe... xD Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! We shall see how this sleepover of sorts works out for the two of them, hmm... **


	14. Why We Fear

**Another relatively long chapter this time! And yes, much suggestiveness and cuteness. And syrup. For some reason, I really love using syrup in my stories... Enjoy, and all rights to Himaruya!**

* * *

America unlocked the door to his house with a loud click and pushed it open. It swung backwards and hit the back of the wall with a loud bang, causing a certain Canadian lounging on the couch to jump and get up to inspect the source of all the sudden noise. He turned the corner and spotted America for a brief moment before something metallic and sharp hit him in the face. Canada flinched as America's house key fell to the floor with a thump. He looked up to snap at America, only to see his brother mouth something very urgently to him. Something along the lines of 'Get out.'

Not one to challenge his brother in the state of panic he seemed to be in, Canada slid stealthily into the kitchen, where he found Kumajiro rummaging through the cupboards. He scooped up the polar bear into his arms and hushed him before the bear could protest. Moments later, Canada heard a familiar accent and the pieces of the puzzle finally began to come together.

"Bloody hell," The British voice exclaimed, "there's no need to slam the door open like that!"

America laughed loudly, "Whatever! It's fine, see?"

Canada grinned smugly and snuck a peek out of the kitchen to catch a glimpse of England stepping through the doorway and looking around. England caught sight of the house key that had fallen to the floor and rolled his eyes.

"Do you always throw around your house key so irresponsibly?" England asked America critically.

England stooped down to pick up the keys while America just waved it off, "Just throw them in the kitchen dude, I'll find them later."

England huffed and made his way to the door Canada was spying from. Canada quickly ducked away and ran out of the kitchen through the other door. America seemed to be waiting for him by the front door, holding it open and gesturing pointedly for Canada to leave.

"Good luck, bro," Canada whispered suggestively, which caused America to flush and sputter slightly in indignation.

"Don't you dare try to spy on me again," America hissed threateningly as Canada hurried out the door.

"No promises!" Canada replied cheerfully.

He received a loud door slam in his face for his words, but the smug smile did not disappear from his countenance. He spun on his heels and started to walk down the pathway to the front door, humming happily as he went. His brother just needed that push in the right direction after all.

Meanwhile, America breathed a sigh of relief. His nosy brother was finally out of his house and now there was no one to judge his actions and interfere in his personal life. Well, there was still the matter of being alone with England, but he decided to deal with that particular part one step at a time. Just act natural, America told himself to try and calm his nerves, be yourself.

At that moment, England poked his head around the corner, his mouth tilted down into a cute little frown. England stared at the front door for a moment before he shook his head and sighed.

"Do you insist on abusing your house?" England asked sarcastically.

America shrugged, "It's used to it."

"I doubt that's a good thing," England replied quickly, "Anyways, America, there appears to have been a tornado in your kitchen."

"What?" America wandered over to the door and he glanced into his kitchen to the sight of, well, the wreckage of what could very well have been a tornado. If said tornado was Canadian in nature and had a bizarre obsession with maple syrup.

America internally cursed Canada one more time as he stared at the mess a certain polar bear had made in the kitchen. Bottles of maple syrup (_real_ maple syrup, mind you, not that cheap fake stuff from the grocery store that appalled Canada so much) lay strewn all over the floor. The bottle caps were haphazardly clawed open and the thick, sugary liquid was drizzled all over the floor, while little paw prints tracked the syrup around everywhere else. America groaned. Never trust Canadians with maple syrup.

"Now I gotta clean this up," America whined grumpily, "thanks a lot, bro."

America cautiously navigated the sticky floor of syrup to reach the sink and the cleaning towels. He tossed them onto the floor unceremoniously and dropped to his knees to start scrubbing. After a brief moment of silence, America heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. He looked up, only to encounter England's face surprisingly close to his own, as the British nation had also gotten down onto his knees.

"Hand me a towel," England demanded with one hand outstretched.

America blinked, mesmerized by England's gaze and that determined look in his eyes.

"Well, come on," England prompted impatiently, "You don't expect me to just sit around do you?"

America shook his head and passed England a towel. They worked side by side, scrubbing the floor clean, and every so often America would stop to straighten up and stretch out his back, sneaking glances at the methodical motions of England's body as he worked, rotating in hypnotic circles with his blonde hair bouncing slightly from each movement. America caught himself blushing and forced himself to get back to work several times. However, he could never stay working for long. He glanced back to England, who was hard at work, biting his lip slightly and narrowing his eyes at every smudge of maple syrup at if it was his new personal enemy. America grinned mischievously and slid over to England unnoticed.

"Boo!" America shouted, pushing England from behind.

England went sprawling forward, landing spread-eagle against the sticky, hard floor. America started to laugh uncontrollably, clutching his side and trying to support himself by leaning against a nearby cupboard. England rolled over onto his back with a death glare on his face directed at America.

"You git!" England hissed furiously.

America took one look at England, his hair now matted and his clothes ruined from the sticky syrup covering the floor, and America just laughed harder. There was a spot of syrup on the tip of England's nose which America found particularly adorable. England, however, didn't seem to find it as funny. He grabbed America by the ankle and yanked hard, bringing the American crashing down to the floor as well, and dragged him through the syrup puddles for good measure. America gasped, partly in an attempt to regain control of his breathing and partly in surprise at the sudden motion. He ended up completely coated in syrup as well, staring up at England who was wearing a wickedly amused smile on his face. England reached out and slid a finger over America's cheek, bringing it up to his lips and licking it with a smirk.

"Sweet revenge," He declared through his grin.

America stared, stunned, up at England, a huge smile stuck on his face but internally panicking because did England not realize what the hell he was _doing_?

"Now," England continued cooly, "are we going to finish cleaning or do I need to deal with you more?"

America put up his hands in surrender, "Ok, ok, you win!"

"Good," England pushed himself up and tried in vain to dignify his position by fixing his hair.

America chuckled as he pushed himself up, "Hey, England."

"What?" England turned to face America.

He felt a warm finger press against his nose and wipe off the stubborn spot of syrup stuck on the tip. America stuck that finger in his mouth and winked as he sucked on it.

"You missed a spot," America mumbled tauntingly.

England grinned and rolled his eyes. Damn, did America not realize what he was even doing?

When the kitchen was finally clean, America looked down at his clothes and ran a hand through his sticky hair. England was in just as bad a condition as he was.

"Dude," America chuckled, "we need a shower."

England huffed, "I don't have any clothes to change into."

America waved a hand dismissively, "It's cool, I'll just lend you some!"

England grumbled and headed upstairs to find the bathroom while America hung behind in the kitchen. He listened to the sound of water flowing through the pipes as England turned the shower on. The water pounded methodically against the shower floor, pointless background sounds against the numb white noise that was America's brain. He drifted upstairs himself to find some clothes for England, unable to resist the urge to pick out one of his favorite (and shamelessly patriotic) shirts to give to England as well as a pair of casual jeans. It wasn't as if he wanted to see what England would look like in some of his favorite clothes or anything. No, of course not!

There was a sudden knock on the door to America's room and he jumped, dropping the clothes in his hands. He glanced up to see England standing there, a white towel wrapped around his waist. America quickly crouched down to pick up the clothes, mostly because he didn't want to be caught staring at England.

"Here," America tossed the clothes to England, who caught it reflexively, "those are for you."

England glanced at the fabric in his hands and frowned, "You have got to be kidding."

"Sorry," America shrugged, still trying to avoid looking at England too much, "it's all I could find."

England sighed and returned to the bathroom to change. America sauntered out to the hall, where he waited until England opened the door again. He was staring down at his new outfit with a displeased frown, but America could not help but smile instead. The shirt was too large for England, but despite its disheveled and baggy appearance England managed to make it somehow... Cute...

"You look good," America snickered teasingly.

England crossed his arms, "This is all your fault."

America mentally patted himself on the back, though outwardly he apologized sarcastically to England.

When it was his turn to shower, America shooed England out of the bathroom and locked the door behind him. England wandered downstairs to the living room, and a few minutes later, America came downstairs in a new change of clothes as well, his hair still dripping wet and soaking through the back of his shirt.

"Dude," America exclaimed as he sat down, "Canada makes his maple syrup way too sticky!"

"And I suppose it's his fault you decided to roll around in it?" England scoffed.

"You never know," America replied mysteriously.

England sighed and flopped down onto the couch next to America, "You are an idiot."

"Thanks," America grinned mischievously.

England heard something clattering around in the kitchen and looked over just in time to see a short figure walking through the door. It was about as tall as a child, but blobby, white, and had an oddly shaped head. It was also eating a hamburger, which it seemed to be enjoying.

"Tony!" America exclaimed happily, drawing the attention of his alien friend.

England moaned. Tony was an alien that lived with America, and it also so happened that England and Tony did not exactly get along well. America seemed oblivious to the animosity, though. Not only that, but England was irritated by the fact that America could believe in _aliens_ just fine, but not _fairies_.

Tony glanced over at America with his black, unblinking eyes and took another bite of his hamburger. Then he turned his attention to England. He stared, and England stared back. They were locked in an intense glaring match until America waved a hand in front of England's face, causing him to flinch. England scowled at Tony again, but Tony just shrugged and wandered away. Tony had won the showdown that time...

"Later, Tony!" America called after him, receiving a thumbs up from the alien.

England's scowl slowly dissolved from his face the moment Tony left the room. America was still grinning cheerfully and he nudged England like an overly enthusiastic school child.

"Hey, England," America's voice was brimming with excitement, "wanna watch a movie?"

"Let me guess," England replied coolly, "a horror movie."

America nodded, his wet hair flopping around.

"Are you masochistic or something?" England muttered in disbelief, "You _always_ get terrified by horror movies!"

America waved a hand dismissively, "I'll be fine!"

"No, you won't," England countered flatly.

America stuck his tongue out and turned on the TV anyways. England surrendered the argument, realizing that America was determined. In hindsight, England probably should not have questioned America's bravery. That only made the nation more stubborn to prove himself.

America snickered evilly all of a sudden and mumbled, "Perfect."

"What?" England asked apprehensively.

America winked, "I found the perfect movie. Hey, do you want any popcorn?"

Before England could answer, America jumped up and dashed to the kitchen. England heard cupboards banging and then the electronic beeping of the microwave. A couple minutes later, America returned with a large bowl of popcorn, his cheeks already bulging from a large handful he had stuffed into his mouth. England grabbed one piece and tossed it into his mouth, recoiling slightly at the sheer amount of salt and butter.

America turned off all the lights in the house, insisting it would enhance the mood. Then, he curled up onto the couch next to England, munching on the popcorn as he started the movie. England stared boredly at the screen. It probably would not be that scary of a movie anyways...

He was wrong. By the climax of the movie, England and America were consuming popcorn by the handfuls, a form of trying to soothe their tense nerves. They had also somehow managed to wrap themselves in one very large blanket. Every so often, when America got particularly jumpy at a certain scene, he would whimper quietly and wrap his arms around England, burying his face in England's collar. England reached blankly for another handful of popcorn, patted America on the back, and stared intently at the screen. England was so enraptured by the movie that he had not noticed the sudden arrival of a certain fairy friend.

Tinkerbell was still miffed by the last time England had yelled at her. Now that England was properly distracted, it was the perfect opportunity to exact her revenge. And, quickly taking in the scene before her, she devised the perfect plan. Nothing like the fear factor to really bring a person to their knees.

Tinkerbell was careful to keep her magic in check as she snuck up behind England. She fluttered just behind his ear and cupped her hands around her mouth. Then, she whispered, her voice shrill and drawn out for added effect.

"I'm coming for you," Tinkerbell threatened before zooming away.

England froze and looked around, startled. In the darkness of the room, however, he could see nothing, which just added to the pile of nerves twisting his stomach. Tinkerbell giggled to herself and floated over to America, who was clinging desperately to England. She hovered by his ear and whispered in his ear.

"You're going to die..."

America yelped suddenly and squeezed England tighter. England gasped from the death grip around him and hastily tried to calm America down. Tinkerbell flew over to England and mumbled into his ear.

"He's going to kill you!"

England visibly flinched but Tinkerbell was gone before he could see her. She was having so much fun torturing the two of them.

"Don't trust him!" Tinkerbell cautioned into America's ear.

America immediately let go of England and curled up underneath the blanket. England gasped for breath as soon as America released him from his crushing grip, but he was still worried.

"America," England called out in a hushed voice, reaching out a hand to pull back the blankets.

"No!" America protested with wide eyes, drawing the blanket closer around himself.

England tried to grab the blanket, "Come on, America."

"You're trying to kill me!" America accused and tried to flee to the furthest corner of the couch.

England rolled his eyes, reigning in his frayed nerves and calming himself down enough to speak evenly, "Trust me, if I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead."

Tinkerbell crossed her arms and huffed. Not the reaction she was hoping for, but at least she had some fun for a bit. That would have to be good enough for now. She then left just before America emerged from his blanket shell.

"That movie," America mumbled sheepishly, "was way too scary."

This time, when England reached out to America to comfort him, America leaned into the touch. England rested his arm across America's shoulders and patted him comfortingly.

"Just a bit," England agreed quietly.

"After all these times," America muttered, "I still get scared by horror movies."

England chuckled, "Just a bit."

They sat there, silent and still, wrapped in the warmth of the blanket and the darkness of the night. America closed his eyes and became alarmingly aware of England's arm over his shoulders. England, similarly, noticed just how close America was to him. Both of them however, decided not to comment on it. They just sat there. They wanted to enjoy it.

"Maybe we should watch something a bit more relaxing," America finally suggested as the clock ticked by.

England nodded blankly, not really paying attention to the TV by this point. America shifted to grab the remote and he put on something England honestly could not care less about. Then America settled back into his position pressed against England and remained silent. It was as if an unspoken agreement had formed between them. Don't question it, it seemed to declare.

England's eyes were just beginning to droop when he felt something heavy land on his shoulder. He was surprised to find that America had fallen asleep, and now his head was resting comfortably on England's shoulder. America's mouth was slightly open and his glasses were lopsided and threatening to fall off the bridge of his nose. England smiled softly and took off America's glasses, placing them a safe distance away. America looked different without his glasses. He looked younger, more innocent, more vulnerable. England ran a hand through America's soft hair, wondering how America could go from so loud to so peaceful in a matter of moments. Not wanting to disturb America's rest, England watched TV late into the night, careful not to move in a way that might wake up America. The young nation slept soundly, with a faint smile on his face.

* * *

England's eye twitched open as sunlight flooded into the room. He squinted his eyes at the brightness and looked around in an attempt to orient himself. After a moment, he realized he was laying down on America's couch, covered in the warm blanket from last night. England sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Morning, England!"

America was opening up the drawn curtains over the windows to let in the morning sun. He was lively as ever, smiling happily and bounding from window to window with renewed energy.

"Morning," England grumbled groggily and stretched his arms above his head.

"You still tired or something?" America asked in amusement.

England groaned, "Yes."

"Really?" America looked surprised, "I slept like a rock! I never sleep that well after horror movies!"

England felt his stomach flutter as he thought back on why he had not slept until late last night. America had been so comfortable, he had not wanted to ruin it. He was fully aware how poorly America slept after horror movies.

"Lucky you," England muttered.

America smirked. He did in fact know the reason why he had been able to sleep so well. He had woken up early, only to find himself leaning against England with the Brit's arm wrapped around him protectively. America wanted to thank England, but he didn't know how. All he knew was that thanks to England, he hadn't been afraid.

"Yeah," America breathed quietly.

England tossed the large blanket off his lap unceremoniously and yawned. He was still wearing America's shirt from yesterday, and it was all crinkled now. America didn't mind, but England still tried to straighten it out. America admired England's persistence, though the shirt was beyond saving.

"Hey, England," America spoke up suddenly.

England turned his attention from the shirt to America in a heartbeat, his green eyes piercing and causing America to second guess himself.

"Have you ever wondered why we fear things?" America asked pensively.

England shrugged, "To preserve our lives?"

America shook his head, "I feel like it's more than that..."

"What do you mean?" England questioned curiously.

"I think," America said slowly, "our fears tell us what we care about most. Sometimes we care most about our lives, but sometimes... Sometimes it's different."

"Interesting idea," England furrowed his eyebrows and commented.

"Anyways," America chuckled nervously, "thanks, England."

America lifted up England easily and pulled him into a tight hug. England froze as he felt America's heartbeat against his own, but just as soon as he was finally getting used to it, America pulled away and smiled shyly. He was already retreating into the kitchen before England found his voice again.

"Thanks for what?"

England's heart was racing and he felt the rush of nervous energy coursing through his body. His stomach churned uncomfortably and he took a deep breath to calm himself. But somehow, England didn't feel panicked. No, he felt a brief moment of clarity. If his reactions were any indication of the fear he felt whenever he got close to confessing to America, then it was also an indication of something else, something much more important, and England would be damned if he would his nerves get in the way. They were not obstacles anymore, they were signs, and England had finally read them clearly.

* * *

**I imagine the movie to be something like The Silence of the Lambs or similar, because those kinds of things really freak me out. Which is exactly why I used it ;) Hope you enjoyed!**


	15. Why People Interfere

**A nice, quick chapter to set up for future events! All rights to Himaruya!**

* * *

Canada propped his elbow against the top of the table and rested his head in his palm. He was bored after sitting around for so long, listening to the "more important" nations ramble on about things he had already forgotten about. No one ever asked his opinion in the meetings, so every time he just sat there, dutifully listening as everyone carried on their lives without paying any attention to him. Naturally, then, he nearly jumped right out of his seat when he felt someone tug on his pants leg.

Canada glanced down and saw someone grinning up at him from underneath the table. Canada recognized his white hair and red eyes immediately.

"What are you doing?" Canada leaned down and whispered to Prussia.

"I got bored," Prussia explained carelessly, "and I wanted to see how things were coming along with you and your brother."

"Did France send you?" Canada asked suspiciously, looking up to stare at the Frenchmen who seemed to actually be paying attention for once.

Prussia shook his head, "Nope. It was my awesome idea!"

Canada smiled slightly, "Of course it was."

"Yep," Prussia winked, "So, how is it going?"

Canada folded his arms and smirked, "Perfect."

Prussia crawled out from under the table and stole the empty chair next to Canada. He started spinning around in the wheel chair and Canada just rolled his eyes.

Suddenly, Canada flinched as something hit him in the face. It landed in Canada's lap as he adjusted his crooked glasses and he looked down to see it was a crumpled up piece of paper. Canada looked up to glare angrily at whoever had thrown it only to spot America waving to him with a sheepish grin on his face. He mouthed something that looked like "Sorry" as Canada grabbed the paper. There were words and doodles scribbled on it in America's penmanship and Canada considered opening up the paper to read it when he spotted America shaking his head furiously at him. He motioned for Canada to throw it back to him with a pleading look on his face, which made Canada want to read whatever was on the paper even more. Nonetheless, he did not want to upset his brother, so he sighed reluctantly and tossed the paper note back. America gave him a thumbs up and turned away.

"What was that all about?" Canada grumbled to no one in particular.

"I think I know," Prussia replied, making Canada jump. He was not used to having people listen to him during meetings.

Prussia pointed to America again, and Canada turned to see America grin slightly as he chucked the paper ball once more across the meeting table. It flew past Canada and Prussia and this time hit the face of a certain British nation who definitely had not been expecting the attack. When he finally recovered from the shock and picked up the paper from off the floor, he snapped his head up and swept his gaze across the table. America waved happily and England's face lit up in realization. He rolled his eyes and read the paper. His face seemed to flush slightly and he looked up again at America.

"Damn," Prussia muttered, "you really should have read that paper."

Canada shrugged, watching England scribble something furiously on the paper. England chucked it back and America caught it in his hand with ease. Whatever America read seemed to please him, because he nodded to England and wrote something down. This routine of exchange continued throughout the rest of the meeting.

"I wonder what they were talking about," Prussia reflected as the meeting came to a close.

Canada spotted America and England leaving the room together and chuckled, "I have a pretty good idea."

* * *

"England," America whined and leaned heavily against England's shoulder as they walked into an empty break room.

England easily brushed off America, "What?"

"I'm so bored," America pouted childishly.

"Completely disregarding the meeting to pass notes isn't enough for you?" England ask sarcastically as he leaned against the wall.

America shook his head, "Trying to be sneaky is too much work!"

"I don't think you know the definition of sneaky," England huffed, "seeing as how you hit your own brother in the face."

"That was an accident!" America protested.

"Learn how to aim," England teased him with a smug grin.

"I do know how to aim!" America folded his arms grumpily.

England rolled his eyes, "So is that why Canada almost read our conversation?"

America dismissed the accusation with a wave of his hand, "Canada wouldn't have read it... I think."

"You think?" England looked highly skeptical.

"Well," America trailed off thoughtfully, "he's been acting really nosy lately..."

England looked surprised, "Has he lost his mind?"

"I don't know! He just won't leave me alone about... Stuff!" America finished with a clumsily vague explanation.

England quirked an eyebrow at the questionable statement but in the end he decided to dismiss it by humming a simple, "Interesting."

"I mean, don't get me wrong, my bro is cool and all, but have you ever wondered why people feel the need to interfere so much? It'd be so much easier if he just backed off!" America complained distractedly.

England grinned and patted America on the shoulder consolingly, "He probably realized you were too much of an idiot to do whatever it is by yourself."

"Hm," America nodded distantly before he realized England had made fun of him, "hey!"

England chuckled and shrugged, "What can I say, I know the feeling."

America blinked in confusion and he did not know how to respond. England gave him a meaningful look and pushed himself off against the wall.

"Speaking of which," England continued on casually, as if his comment meant nothing in particular, "I'm expecting you to keep your promise. I'll see you at your place next week."

With a faint smile, England bid America goodbye and left the break room. America listened to the sound of footsteps fade into the distance and felt a tingling sensation in his gut. America always considered himself to be a brave person, but when it came to England he felt about as courageous as a speck of dust; that is to say, he felt like he had no courage whatsoever. He knew he had to get over it, and next week would be the perfect chance. It was going to be the annual Cherry Blossom Festival in Washington D.C, and what better opportunity to gain a new sense of courage than with the ushering in of the Spring season of new life and new beginnings.

"Home of the brave," America muttered to himself as he too exited the break room.

* * *

**The Cherry Blossom Festival is absolutely beautiful, and what with it taking place in late March/early April, it's a nice seasonal celebration for the story! We had England's resolve for courage, and now we also have America's. I wonder how that will work out?**


	16. Just Characters in a Story

**Without any further delay on my part, I bring you this next chapter! Apologies it took so long! And as usual, all rights to Himaruya.**

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The enticing warmth of the Spring air and the clear, open blue skies overhead helped to ease England's nerves as he strolled to America's house. If his mind wasn't so preoccupied with the fact that he had made a very stupid promise to himself, he would certainly be enjoying the beautiful weather. Unfortunately, said stupid promise was chewing at his nerves, and England, for once, gave thanks to his innate obstinance for preventing him from backing out. Said promise was rather simple, at least according to the logical part England's brain; confess to the damn American. According to his emotional half, however, the plan was complex beyond the realm of possibility. At that moment the emotional side looked to be winning out.

When England knocked on the front door, it flew open moments later. America was standing there, positively beaming.

"Hey, England!" America greeted him jovially.

Rather unceremoniously, America grabbed England by the arm and started dragging him off. By this point England was used to the gesture, so he allowed himself to be guided without much of a fuss. Most of his energy was being spent keeping his stomach from doing backflips anyways.

"America," England asked after a couple of blocks, "where are we even going?"

America grinned and paused for a moment to face England. He clapped his hands together and winked.

"It's a secret," America declared mysteriously.

England rolled his eyes, but he smiled slightly as he replied, "Why am I not surprised?"

America laughed before he commanded, "Anyways, close your eyes."

"Excuse me?" England blinked and started to feel apprehensive of America's secretive plans.

America pouted slightly, "Please?"

England reluctantly did as he was told, and moments later he felt America offer him his arm. England held onto America's arm just above the elbow and followed half a step behind his new guide. America was careful to walk slow enough for England, who despite being extremely curious managed to keep his eyes closed. England felt a bit childish, but fortunately he wasn't able to see so if anyone did give him a funny look, he didn't notice. Instead, England concentrated on the feel of the sidewalk beneath his feet and the motion of America's arm. He listened to the busy city traffic and the snippets of random conversation from passerby.

"Almost there," America hummed mischievously.

Their pace sped up as England got used to being guided. Soon, the concrete sidewalk gave way to a more gravelly path and England could feel the air cool around him as they stepped into the shade. He felt America stop walking so he slowed to a halt as well.

"Ok," America said softly, "open your eyes."

England obliged. His eyes fluttered open, and as they adjusted to the light he gasped quietly. They stood on a walking path by the edge of a placid body of water that reflected the clear blue sky on its surface. More impressive, however, were the dozens of blossoming cherry trees that spread out in each direction along the path. The soft, delicate pink of the flowering blossoms was accentuated by the dark, glossy bark, and the branches spread out and hung over the path, shielding it from the direct light of the glowing Spring sun. The entire body of water, England could see, was surrounded by the gentle pink blossoms. If he wasn't mistaken, he remembered seeing a similar tree at Japan's house.

"It's beautiful," England praised with a light smile.

America nodded happily, "It's the annual Cherry Blossom Festival. We always celebrate it when the cherry trees flower like this."

"I'm glad I visited when I did, then," England noted in a subdued tone.

"Come on," America nudged him gently, "let's go for a walk."

They strolled down the path at a leisurely pace. Countless other citizens seemed to have the same idea as them, and England also spotted several couples holding hands as they walked. England surreptitiously glanced down at America's hand, but quickly went back to looking at the cherry trees. America was content for once to just walk around in silence, but every so often while England was appreciating the gentle, fragrant beauty of the trees, he caught America watching him and smiling.

They continued down the path and eventually the crowds of people thinned out. They were approaching a more isolated section of the basin when England spotted a familiar figure looking around. He was withdrawn from the rest of the smaller crowd and therefore stood out as clear as day. England was about to point out the familiar figure to America, but it appeared the younger nation had already noticed. He looked a bit surprised, but he quickly grinned and bounded ahead of England to greet the visitor.

"Yo!" America called out loudly, "Japan!"

The figure of Japan turned around to see America running up to him. He cringed slightly as America smothered him in a friendly hug but still smiled politely nonetheless.

"Hello America," Japan greeted formally.

"I didn't know you'd be here, dude! You should have told me!" America exclaimed and let go of Japan.

Japan shook his head, "I did not want to impose."

"Nah," America waved his hand dismissively, "it's totally fine!"

Japan glanced over America's shoulder and spotted England approaching. Japan smiled faintly and England nodded in place of a greeting. Japan nodded back, much more comfortable than he was with America's hug.

"What are you doing here anyways?" America asked innocently.

England noticed a brief look of concern flash over Japan's face. It was gone almost immediately and Japan looked just as collected as before. England narrowed his eyes slightly, though if Japan detected any of England's behavior he did not let on about it.

"I just thought it'd visit the cherry blossoms," Japan told America quietly, "I wanted to check up on them."

"Yeah, sure," America nodded, "they're doing great!"

"I'm glad," Japan said passively.

Japan glanced over at England again, but this time he was met by a pair of bright green eyes staring right at him. Japan quickly looked away and England huffed slightly. America seemed oblivious to the interaction though.

"Anyways," America spoke up suddenly, "we gotta go now Japan, but I'm glad you're enjoying the Festival!"

"Thank you, America," Japan bowed slightly as the younger nation bounded away, expecting England to follow close behind him.

England made to do just that, but the passive Japanese nation stood in his way.

"How are you, England?" Japan asked with a meaningful look.

England blinked, "Fine."

Japan nodded, "And America?"

"He's fine too," England replied hesitantly.

Japan nodded again. He did not comment further, which made England even more suspicious.

"Anyways," England cleared his throat uncomfortably, "good day, Japan."

England heard Japan reply under his breath as he hurried to catch up to America, "Hopefully."

Not sure what to make of that statement, England sped up until he spotted the young nation ahead of him. America had not noticed his brief absence, thankfully. He was humming a peppy tune under his breath with his hands in his pockets.

"Funny meeting Japan here," England commented lightly to try and start a conversation.

America started and looked at England blankly, "Hm? Oh, yeah, pretty cool huh?"

England noticed America's distracted behavior and asked, "Something bothering you?"

"Oh, no," America chuckled lightly, "I just had a feeling he would be here is all."

"Oh?" England was suddenly much more curious as to why Japan was there.

America just shrugged and kept on walking. England frowned and kept up the pace, but it was clear to him he would not get an easy answer out of America. He always chose the strangest times to shut up for once.

By this time, England and America were two of only a few people left on the path around the basin. The majority of the people were gathered across the water where some of the celebrations were being held. It seemed that the further they walked from the start, the quieter America became. He was staring down at his feet and chewing the inside of his lip, clear indications that something was on his mind. England was not sure whether to ask about it or not. Not only that, but how was he supposed to keep his promise to himself if the damn American would not even talk to him? Perhaps he would hold true to his promise another day...

England was acutely aware of the fact that he and America were now the only two people left on the path. The distant murmurings of the crowd drifted across the water to them, but otherwise it felt like they were in a completely different world. The light pink blossoms of the trees and the baby blue of the sky blended together to form a pastel veil, and behind it England felt very separated from the world passing by around him. Suddenly, America stopped walking and made his way over to a wooden bench tucked between two blossoming trees. He collapsed onto it with a sigh of relief and smiled. England followed him to the bench and sat down next to him.

"Are you tired?" England asked politely, yet another attempt to start a pointless conversation.

America shook his head, "Nah. It just feels good to be here."

"I suppose it's a rather nice view," England reasoned in agreement.

"You have no idea," America mumbled under his breath.

America stretched out on the bench and England twitched when one arm draped over the back of the bench, right where England's shoulders were. He debated whether or not to swat the offending arm away. Then, he realized, it would be the perfect opportunity to make right on his promise.

"Hey, England," America said before England could even open his mouth, "there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"Oh?" England glanced at America, "I've actually been meaning to tell you something too."

America rubbed the back of his neck, "You can go first then."

England paled slightly, "America not wanting to be first? Are you sure you're alright?"

America chuckled uncomfortably, "Pretty sure I am dude."

"Either way," England insisted, not ready to say what he wanted to just yet and struggling to suffocate his last-minute nerves, "go ahead, America, what I have to say can wait."

America looked a bit alarmed, "Oh, ok."

After a brief moment of silence, England cleared his throat, "Well?"

"Well," America began slowly, "I dunno how to say it... I guess... I mean, I do but it's kind of hard to, you know? Like, um–"

"Come on America," England pressed him forward, "spit it out."

America gulped slightly and turned to make eye contact with England. The blue more brilliant than the sky above them filled England with a new sense of tranquility. It was like a reassurance that yes, he was making the right choice. He just had to wait for America, who coincidentally was trying to convince himself of the correctness of his choice too. Eventually, his brain grew tired of struggling and gave up. At that point, America just went for it.

"I really like you, dude," The words tumbled out of America's mouth before he could stop them.

England watched as America's face slowly transitioned through the spectrum of red until it settled on a nice, even tone of pale red to show just how embarrassed America was. England stared and felt like his ears were playing tricks on him. Was this really going to be that simple? Surely not?

"Um, England," America mumbled shyly, "can you stop staring at me like that? Its freaking me out."

England blinked and pulled himself away from America's blushing complexion. He opened his mouth slightly and finally crushed the apprehension that had been chewing at his nerves all day.

"Sorry," England mumbled.

America's eyes widened, "Now you're smiling. Why are you smiling? Dude, England, you're freaking me out here! Just tell me you don't like me so I can go hide somewhere ok?!"

England rolled his eyes and leaned closer to America. He curled one hand behind America's head and brushed it through his golden blonde hair. America opened his mouth to say something, probably just as panicky as before, but England stopped him by pressing their lips together. Their first completely sober, completely on purpose kiss, and America could not be more surprised. Of course, America gladly let England take his time, though after a while England realized he still needed to breathe. England reluctantly let go and pulled back slightly, smirking at the mixed look of shock and utter pleasure on America's face.

"Did- Didn't you have something you wanted to say?" America asked England weakly.

England sighed in content and shook his head, "I think that said pretty much everything."

America nodded numbly, "You're really good with words..."

England felt America's arm around his shoulders again and smiled, "You're not so bad yourself."

A gust of wind shook the cherry blossoms around the figures of the two nations leaning into each other on the wooden bench, and a single blossom freed itself from its branch and floated down onto their laps. America glanced down at it.

"Hey England," America spoke softly, "have you ever wondered if we're just characters in a story?"

England smiled at the familiar line of questioning that he had grown so accustomed to. He allowed himself a moment to ponder the idea before replying.

"If we are," He said, "we got a bloody good ending."

America grinned and picked up the cherry blossom with his free hand, "Or a pretty sweet beginning."

"That too," England nodded.

The wind blew the cherry blossom sitting in America's hand away, and it drifted down the path until it landed near the feet of a certain Japanese nation. He took one look at the two nations on the bench and smiled.

"I told you, Canada," Japan turned to the nearly invisible nation next to him, "Cherry blossoms allow everyone to overcome their difficult times."

Canada shrugged with a mischievous smile, "Whatever gets the job done."

Back on the bench, America and England shared one more tender kiss before they stood up and decided to call it a day. It was a suiting end to start their new beginnings.

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**And with that, I'd like to sincerely thank everyone who has read this story of mine! I can't tell you how much I appreciate it! The story ends here, as I'm working on finishing up a novel of mine this April and I did not want to drag this out too much. After April though, I have a couple new projects in mind you might like... ;)**


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